THE  TERMS 
SURRENDER 


Louis  *  Tracy 


(^S 


THE  TERMS  OF  SURRENDER 


By  LOUIS  TRACY 


THE  WINGS  OF  THE  MORNING 

THE  PILLAR  OF  LIGHT 

THE  GREAT  MOGUL 

THE  CAPTAIN  OF  THE  KANSAS 

KARL  GRIER 

THE  WHEEL  O'  FORTUNE 

THE  KING  OF  DIAMONDS 

THE  RED  YEAR 

THE  MESSAGE 

A  SON  OF  THE  IMMORTALS 

THE  STOWAWAY 

CYNTHIA'S  CHAUFFEUR 

THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

MIRABEL'S  ISLAND 

ONE  WONDERFUL  NIGHT 

THE  "MIND  THE  PAINT"  GIRL 

THE  TERMS  OF  SURRENDER 


The  Terms  of 
Surrender 


BT 

LOUIS  TRACY 

Author  of 

'  The  Wings  of  the  Morning,"  *'  One  Wonderful 

Night."  etc.,  etc. 


New  York 

Edward  J.  Clode 

Publisher 


Copyright  1913  by  Edward  J.  Clode. 


CONTENTS 

I 

At"MacGonigars" 

I 

II 

The  Terms  of  Surrender 

i8 

III 

Showing  How  Power  Acquired  a 

Limp 

34 

IV 

The  Sudden  Rise  of  Peter  MacGonigal 

5' 

V 

Wherein  Power  Travels  East 

68 

VI 

The  Meeting 

85 

VII 

The  Forty  Steps 

104 

VIII 

The  Step  That  Counted 

124 

IX 

The  Chase 

144 

X 

Nancy  Decides 

164 

XI 

Power's  Home-Coming 

185 

XII 

After  Darkness,  Light 

205 

XIII 

The  Beginning  of  the  Pilgrimage 

ivi2G88S 

226 

Contents 

XIV  The  Wander-Tears  249 

XV  The  New  Life  270 

XVI  Power  Driven  into  Wilderness  1^'^ 

XVII  Showing  How  Power  Met  a  Guide       313 

XVIII  The  Second  Generation  331 

XIX  The  Settlement  352 

XX  The  Passing  of  the  Storm  3  76 


THE  TERMS  OF  SURRENDER 


CHAPTER  I 
AT  "  MacGONIGAL'S  " 

HULLO,  Mac!" 
"  Hullo,  Berj:^'' 

"  What's  got  the  boys  today  ?    Is  there  a 
round-up  somewhere?  " 

"  Looks  that-a  way,"  said  Mac,  grabbing  a  soiled 
cloth  with  an  air  of  decision,  and  giving  the  pine 
counter  a  vigorous  rub.  At  best,  he  was  a  man  of 
few  words,  and  the  few  were  generally  to  the  point; 
yet  his  questioner  did  not  seem  to  notice  the  non- 
committal nature  of  the  reply,  and,  after  an  amused 
glance  at  the  industrious  Mac,  quitted  the  store  as 
swiftly  as  he  had  entered  it.  But  he  flung  an  ex- 
planatory word  over  his  shoulder: 

"  Guess  I'll  see  to  that  plug  myself — he's  fallen 
lame." 

Then  John  Darien  Power  swung  out  again  into  the 
vivid  sunshine  of  Colorado  ("  vivid "  is  the  correct 
adjective  for  sunshine  thereabouts  in  June  about  the 
hour  of  the  siesta)  and  gently  encouraged  a  dis- 
pirited mustang  to  hobble  on  three  legs  into  the  iron- 
roofed  lean-to  which  served  as  a  stable  at  "  Mac- 
Gonigal's."  Meanwhile,  the  proprietor  of  the  store 
gazed  after  Power's  retreating  figure  until  neither  man 
nor  horse  was  visible.  Even  then,  in  an  absent-minded 
way,  he  continued  to  survey  as  much  of  the  dusty  sur- 


2  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

face  of  the  Silver  State  as  was  revealed  through  the 
rectangle  of  the  doorway,  a  vista  slightly  diminished 
by  the  roof  of  a  veranda.  What  he  saw  in  the  fore- 
ground was  a  whitish  brown  plain,  apparently  a  des- 
ert, but  in  reality  a  plateau,  or  "  park,"  as  the  local 
name  has  it,  a  tableland  usually  carpeted  not  only 
with  grama  and  buffalo  grasses  curing  on  the  stem,  but 
also  with  flowers  in  prodigal  abundance  and  of  bewil- 
dering varieties.  True,  in  the  picture  framed  by  the 
open  door  neither  grass-stems  nor  flowers  were  visible, 
unless  to  the  imaginative  eye.  There  was  far  too  much 
coming  and  going  of  men  and  animals  across  the  strip 
of  common  which  served  the  purposes  of  a  main  street 
in  Bison  to  permit  the  presence  of  active  vegetation 
save  during  the  miraculous  fortnight  after  the  spring 
rains,  when,  by  local  repute,  green  whiskers  will  grow 
on  a  bronze  dog.  Scattered  about  the  immediate  vi- 
cinity were  the  ramshackle  houses  of  men  employed  in 
the  neighboring  gold  and  silver  reduction  works.  The 
makeshift  for  a  roadway  which  pierced  this  irregular 
settlement  led  straight  to  MacGonigaPs,  and  ended 
there.  As  every  man,  woman,  and  child  in  the  place 
came  to  the  store  at  some  time  of  the  day  or  night, 
and  invariably  applied  Euclid's  definition  of  the  near- 
est way  between  two  given  points,  the  flora  of  Colo- 
rado was  quickly  stamped  out  of  recognition  in  that 
particular  locality,  except  during  the  irrepressible 
period  when,  as  already  mentioned,  the  fierce  rains  of 
April  pounded  the  sleeping  earth  and  even  bronze  dogs 
into  a  frenzied  activity.  Further,  during  that  year, 
now  nearly  quarter  of  a  century  old,  there  had  been 
no  rain  in  April  or  May,  and  precious  little  in  March. 


At  ''MacGonigaVs"  3 

As  the  ranchers  put  it,  in  the  figurative  la^iguage  of 
their  calling,  "  the  hull  blame  state  was  burnt  to  a 
cinder." 

The  middle  distance  was  lost  altogether;  for  the 
park  sloped,  after  the  manner  of  plateaus,  to  a  deep 
valley  through  which  trickled  a  railroad  and  the  re- 
mains of  a  river.  Some  twenty  miles  away  a  belt  of 
woodland  showed  where  Denver  was  justifying  its  name 
by  growing  into  a  city,  and  forty  miles  beyond  Den- 
ver rose  the  blue  ring  of  the  Rocky  Mountains.  These 
details,  be  it  understood,  are  given  with  the  meticulous 
accuracy  insisted  on  by  map-makers.  In  a  country 
where,  every  year,  the  percentage  of  "  perfectly  clear  " 
days  rises  well  above  the  total  of  all  other  sorts  of 
days,  and  where  a  popular  and  never- failing  joke 
played  on  the  newcomer  is  to  persuade  him  into  taking 
an  afternoon  stroll  from  Denver  to  Mount  Evans,  a 
ramble  of  over  sixty  miles  as  the  crow  flies,  the  mind 
refuses  to  be  governed  by  theodolites  and  measuring 
rods.  Indeed,  the  deceptive  clarity  of  the  air  leads 
to  exaggeration  at  the  other  end  of  the  scale,  because 
no  true  son  or  daughter  of  Colorado  will  walk  a  hun- 
dred yards  if  there  is  a  horse  or  car  available  for  the 
journey.  Obviously,  walking  is  a  vain  thing  when  the 
horizon  and  the  next  block  look  equidistant. 

It  may,  however,  be  taken  for  granted  that  none 
of  these  considerations  accounted  for  MacGonigal's 
fixed  stare  at  the  sunlit  expanse.  In  fact,  it  is  prob- 
able that  his  bulging  eyes  took  in  no  special  feature 
of  the  landscape;  for  they  held  an  introspective  look, 
and  he  stopped  polishing  the  counter  as  abruptly  as 
he  had  begun  that  much-needed  operation  when  Power 


4  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

entered  the  store.  He  indulged  in  soliloquy,  too, 
as  the  habit  is  of  some  men  in  perplexity.  Shift- 
ing the  cigar  he  was  smoking  from  the  left  corner  of 
his  wide  mouth  to  the  right  one  by  a  dexterous  twisting 
of  lips,  with  tongue  and  teeth  assisting,  he  said  aloud : 

"Well,  ef  I  ain't  dog-goned!" 

So,  whatever  it  was,  the  matter  was  serious.  It 
was  a  convention  at  Bison  that  all  conversation  should 
be  suspended  among  the  frequenters  of  MacGonigal's 
when  the  storekeeper  remarked  that  he  was  dog-goned. 
Ears  already  alert  were  tuned  at  once  to  intensity. 
When  Mac  was  dog-goned,  events  of  vital  importance 
to  the  community  had  either  happened  or  were  about 
to  happen.  Why,  those  words,  uttered  by  him,  common 
as  they  were  in  the  mouths  of  others,  had  been  known 
to  stop  One-thumb  Jake  from  opening  a  jack-pot  on 
a  pat  straight!  Of  course,  the  pot  was  opened  all 
right  after  the  social  avanlanche  heralded  by  the  store- 
keeper's epoch-making  ejaculation  had  rolled  past,  or 
Jake's  remaining  thumb  might  have  been  shot  off  during 
the  subsequent  row. 

Apparently,  MacGonigal  was  thinking  hard,  listen- 
ing, too;  for  he  seemed  to  be  following  Power's  move- 
ments, and  nodded  his  head  in  recognition  of  the  rattle 
of  a  chain  as  the  horse  was  tied  to  a  feeding  trough, 
the  clatter  of  a  zinc  bucket  when  Power  drew  water 
from  a  tank,  and  the  stamping  of  hoofs  while  Power 
was  persuading  the  lame  mustang  to  let  him  bathe 
and  bandage  the  injured  tendons.  Then  the  animal 
was  given  a  drink — he  would  be  fed  later — and  the 
ring  of  spurred  boots  on  the  sun-baked  ground  an- 
nounced that  Derry  was  returning  to  the  store. 


At  ''MacGonigaVs"  5 

Power's  nickname,  in  a  land  where  a  man's  baptismal 
certificate  is  generally  ignored,  was  easily  accounted 
for  by  his  second  name,  Darien,  conferred  by  a  proud 
mother  in  memory  of  a  journey  across  the  Isthmus 
when,  as  a  girl,  she  was  taken  from  New  York  to 
San  Franciso  by  the  oldtime  sea  route.  The  other 
day,  when  he  stood  for  a  minute  or  so  in  the  foyer  of 
the  Savoy  Hotel  in  London,  waiting  while  his  auto- 
mobile was  summoned  from  the  courtyard,  he  seemed  to 
have  lost  little  of  the  erect,  sinewy  figure  and  lithe 
carriage  which  were  his  most  striking  physical  charac- 
teristics twenty-five  years  ago;  but  the  smooth,  dark- 
brown  hair  had  become  gray,  and  was  slightly  frizzled 
about  the  temples,  and  the  clean-cut  oval  of  his  face 
bore  records  of  other  tempests  than  those  noted  by 
the  Weather  Bureau.  In  walking,  too,  he  moved  with 
a  decided  limp.  At  fifty,  John  Darien  Power  looked 
the  last  man  breathing  whom  a  storekeeper  in  a  di- 
sheveled mining  village  would  hail  as  "  Derry  " ;  yet  it 
may  be  safely  assumed  that  his  somewhat  hard  and 
care-lined  lips  would  have  softened  into  a  pleasant  smile 
had  someone  greeted  him  in  the  familiar  Colorado  way. 
And,  when  that  happened,  the  friend  of  bygone  years 
would  be  sure  that  no  mistake  had  been  made  as  to  his 
identity;  for,  in  those  early  days.  Power  always  won 
approval  when  he  smiled.  His  habitual  expression  was 
one  of  concentrated  purpose,  and  his  features  were 
cast  in  a  mold  that  suggested  repose  and  strength. 
Indeed,  their  classic  regularity  of  outline  almost  be- 
spoke a  harsh  nature  were  it  not  for  the  lurking  humor 
in  his  large  brown  eyes,  which  were  shaded  by  lashes 
so  long,  and  black,  and  curved  that  most  women  who 


6  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

met  him  envied  him  their  possession.  Children  and 
dogs  adopted  him  as  a  friend  promptly  and  without 
reservation;  but  strangers  of  adult  age  were  apt  to 
regard  him  as  a  rather  morose  and  aloof-mannered  per- 
son, distinctly  frigid  and  self-possessed,  until  some 
chance  turn  in  the  talk  brought  laughter  to  eyes  and 
lips.  Then  a  carefully  veiled  kindliness  of  heart  seemed 
to  bubble  to  the  surface  and  irradiate  his  face.  All 
the  severity  of  firm  mouth  and  determined  chin  dis- 
appeared as  though  by  magic ;  and  one  understood  the 
force  of  the  simile  used  by  a  western  schoolma'am, 
who  contributed  verse  to  the  Rocky  Mountain  News, 
when  she  said  that  Derry's  smile  reminded  her  of  a 
sudden  burst  of  sunshine  which  had  converted  into  a 
sparkling  mirror  the  somber  gloom  of  a  lake  sunk  in 
the  depths  of  some  secluded  valley.  Even  in  Colo- 
rado, people  of  the  poetic  temperament  write  in  that 
strain. 

Now,  perhaps,  you  have  some  notion  of  the  sort 
of  young  man  it  was  who  came  back  to  the  dog-goned 
MacGonigal  on  that  June  day  in  the  half-forgotten 
'80's.  Add  to  the  foregoing  description  certain  in- 
timate labels — ^that  he  was  a  mining  engineer,  that  he 
had  been  educated  in  the  best  schools  of  the  Far  West, 
that  he  was  slender,  and  well  knit,  and  slightly  above 
the  middle  height,  and  that  he  moved  with  the  gait 
of  a  horseman  and  an  athlete — and  the  portrait  is  fairly 
complete. 

The  storekeeper  was  Power's  physical  antithesis. 
He  was  short  and  fat,  and  never  either  walked  or  rode ; 
but  his  North  of  Ireland  ancestors  had  bequeathed  him 
a  shrewd  brain  and  a  Scottish  slowness  of  speech  that 


At  ''MacGonigaVs"  7 

gave  him  time  to  review  his  thoughts  before  they  were 
uttered.  No  sooner  did  he  hear  his  visitor's  approach- 
ing footsteps  than  he  began  again  to  polish  the  pine 
boards  which  barricaded  him  from  the  small  world  of 
Bison. 

Such  misplaced  industry  won  a  smile  from  the 
younger  man. 

"  Gee  whizz,  Mac,  it  makes  me  hot  to  see  you  work !  " 
he  cried.  "  Anyhow,  if  you've  been  whirling  that  dus- 
ter ever  since  I  blew  in  you  must  be  tired,  so  you  can 
quit  now,  and  fix  me  a  bimetallic." 

With  a  curious  alacrity,  the  stout  MacGonigal  threw 
the  duster  aside,  and  reached  for  a  bottle  of  whisky, 
an  egg,  a  siphon  of  soda,  and  some  powdered  sugar. 
Colorado  is  full  of  local  color,  even  to  the  naming  of 
its  drinks.  In  a  bimetallic  the  whole  egg  is  used, 
and  variants  of  the  concoction  are  a  gold  fizz  and  a 
silver  fizz,  wherein  the  yoke  and  the  white  figure 
respectively, 

"  Whar  you  been,  Derry?  "  inquired  the  storekeeper, 
whose  massive  energy  was  now  concentrated  on  the 
proper  whisking  of  the  egg. 

"  Haven't  you  heard  ?  Marten  sent  me  to  erect  the 
pump  on  a  placer  mine  he  bought  near  Sacramento. 
It's  a  mighty  good  proposition,  too,  and  I've  done 
pretty  well  to  get  through  in  four  months." 

"  Guess  I  was  told  about  the  mine ;  but  I  plumb 
forgot.  Marten  was  here  a  bit  sence,  an'  he  said 
nothin'."  Power  laughed  cheerfully.  "  He'll  be  sur- 
prised to  see  me,  and  that's  a  fact.  He  counted  on  the 
job  using  up  the  best  part  of  the  summer,  right  into 
the  fall;  but  I  made  those  Chicago  mechanics  open  up 


\ 


8  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

the  throttle,  and  here  I  am,  having  left  everything  in 
full  swing." 

"Didn't  you  write?" 

"  Yes,  to  Denver.  I  don't  mind  telling  you,  Mac, 
that  I  would  have  been  better  pleased  if  the  boss  was 
there  now.  I  came  slick  through,  meaning  to  make 
Denver  tomorrow.    Where  is  he — at  the  mill?  " 

"  He  was  thar  this  mornin'." 

Power  was  frankly  puzzled  by  MacGonigal's  excess 
of  reticence.  He  knew  the  man  so  well  that  he  won- 
dered what  sinister  revelation  lay  behind  this  twice- 
repeated  refusal  to  give  a  direct  reply  to  his  questions. 
By  this  time  the  appetizing  drink  was  ready,  and  he 
swallowed  it  with  the  gusto  of  one  who  had  found 
the  sun  hot  and  the  trail  dusty,  though  he  had  ridden 
only  three  miles  from  the  railroad  station  in  the  valley, 
where  he  was  supplied  with  a  lame  horse  by  the  blunder 
of  a  negro  attendant  at  the  hotel. 

It  was  his  way  to  solve  a  difficulty  by  taking  the 
shortest  possible  cut;  but,  being  quite  in  the  dark 
as  to  the  cause  of  his  friend's  perceptible  shirking  of 
some  unknown  trouble,  he  decided  to  adopt  what  lo- 
gicians term  a  process  of  exhaustion. 

"  All  well  at  Dolores  ?  "  he  asked,  looking  straight 
into  the  storekeeper's  prominent  eyes. 

"  Bully !  "  came  the  unblinking  answer. 

Ah!  The  worry,  whatsoever  it  might  be,  evidently 
did  not  concern  John  Darien  Power  in  any  overwhelm- 
ing degree. 

"  Then  what  have  you  got  on  your  chest,  Mac  ?  '* 
he  said,  while  voice  and  manner  softened  from  an  un- 
mistakably stiffening. 


At  "MacGonigaVs''  9 

MacGonigal  seemed  to  regard  this  personal  inquiry 
anent  his  well-being  as  affording  a  safe  means  of  escape 
from  a  dilemma.  "  I'm  scairt  about  you,  Derry,"  he 
said  at  once,  and  there  was  no  doubting  the  sincerity 
of  the  words. 

"About  me?" 

"Yep.  Guess  you'd  better  hike  back  to  Sacra- 
mento." 

"But  why?" 

"  Marten  'ud  like  it." 

"  Man,  I've  written  to  tell  him  I  was  on  the  way 
to  Denver ! " 

"  Then  git  a  move  on,  an'  go  thar." 

Power  smiled,  though  not  with  his  wonted  geniality, 
for  he  was  minded  to  be  sarcastic.  "  Sorry  if  I  should 
offend  the  boss  by  turning  up  in  Bison,"  he  drawled; 
"  but  if  I  can't  hold  this  job  down  I'll  monkey  around 
till  I  find  another.  If  you  should  happen  to  see  Marten 
this  afternoon,  tell  him  I'm  at  the  ranch,  and  will  show 
up  in  Main  Street  tomorrow  p.m." 

He  was  actually  turning  on  his  heel  when  Mac- 
Gonigal cried : 

"  Say,  Derry,  air  you  heeled?  " 

Power  swung  round  again,  astonishment  writ  large 
on  his  face.  "  Why,  no,"  he  said.  "  I'm  not  likely  to 
be  carrying  a  gold  brick  to  Dolores.  Who's  going  to 
hold  me  up?  " 

"  Bar  jokin',  I  wish  you'd  vamoose.  Dang  me,  come 
back  tomorrer,  ef  you  must! " 

There!  MacGonigal  had  said  it!  In  a  land  where 
swearing  is  a  science  this  Scoto-Hibemico-American 
had  earned  an  enviable  repute  for  the  mildness  of  his 


10  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

expletives,  and  his  "  dang  me !  "  was  as  noteworthy  in 
Bison  as  its  European  equivalent  in  the  mouth  oi' 
a  British  archbishop.  Power  was  immensely  surprised 
by  his  bulky  friend's  emphatic  earnestness,  and  cud- 
geled his  brains  to  suggest  a  reasonable  explanation. 
Suddenly  it  occurred  to  him  a  second  time  that  Bison 
was  singularly  empty  of  inhabitants  that  day.  Mac- 
Gonigal's  query  with  regard  to  a  weapon  was  also 
significant,  and  he  remembered  that  when  he  left 
the  district  there  was  pending  a  grave  dispute  be- 
tween ranchers  and  squatters  as  to  the  inclosing  of 
certain  grazing  lands  on  the  way  to  the  East  and  its 
markets. 

"  Are  the  boys  wire-cutting  today  ?  "  he  asked,  in 
the  accents  of  real  concern;  for  any  such  expedition 
would  probably  bring  about  a  struggle  which  might 
not  end  till  one  or  both  of  the  opposing  parties  ran 
short  of  ammunition. 

"  Nit,"  growled  the  other.  "Whyargy?  You  jest 
take  my  say-so,  Derry,  an'  skate." 

"  Is  the  boss  mixed  up  in  this  ?  " 

"  Yep." 

"  Well,  he  can  take  care  of  himself  as  well  as  anyone 
I  know.     So  long,  Mac.     See  you  later." 

"  Ah,  come  off,  Derry.  You've  got  to  have  it ;  but 
don't  say  I  didn't  try  to  help.  The  crowd  are  up  at 
Dolores.  Marten's  gittin'  married,  an'  that's  all  there 
is  to  it.  Now  I  guess  you'll  feel  mad  with  me  for 
not  tellin'  you  sooner." 

Power's  face  blanched  under  its  healthy  tan  of  sun 
and  air;  but  his  voice  was  markedly  clear  and  con- 
trolled when  he  spoke,  which,  however,  he  did  not  do 


At  '"MacGonigaVs"  11 

until  some  seconds  after  MacGonigal  had  made  what 
was,  for  him,  quite  an  oration. 

"  Why  should  Marten  go  to  Dolores  to  get  mar- 
ried ?  "  he  said  at  last. 

The  storekeeper  humped  his  heavy  shoulders,  and 
conjured  the  cigar  across  his  mouth  again.  He  did 
not  flinch  under  the  sudden  fire  which  blazed  in  Pow- 
er's eyes ;  nevertheless,  he  remained  silent. 

"  Mac,"  went  on  the  younger  man,  still  uttering  each 
word  dehberately,  "  do  you  mean  that  Marten  is  mar- 
rying Nancy  Willard?  " 

"  Yep." 

"And  you've  kept  me  here  all  this  time!  God  in 
Heaven,  Man,  find  me  a  horse ! " 

"  It's  too  late,  Derry.  They  was  wed  three  hours 
sence." 

"  Too  late  for  what  ?     Get  me  a  horse ! " 

"  There's  not  a  nag  left  in  Bison.  An'  it'll  do 
you  no  sort  of  good  ter  shoot  Marten." 

"  Mac,  you're  no  fool.  He  sent  me  to  Sacramento 
to  have  me  out  of  the  way,  and  you've  seen  through 
it  right  along." 

"  Maybe.  But  old  man  Willard  was  dead  broke. 
This  dry  spell  put  him  slick  under  the  harrow.  Nancy 
married  Marten  ter  save  her  father." 

"  That's  a  lie !  They  made  her  believe  it,  perhaps ; 
but  Willard  could  have  won  through  as  others  have 
done.  That  scheming  devil  Marten  got  me  side-tracked 
on  purpose.  He  planned  it,  just  as  David  put  Uriah 
in  the  forefront  of  the  battle.  But,  by  God,  he's  not 
a  king,  any  more  than  I'm  a  Hittite!  Nancy  Willard 
is  not  for  him,  nor  ever  will  be.    Give  me — but  I  know 


12  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

you  won't,  and  it  doesn't  matter,  anyway,  because  I'd 
rather  tear  him  with  my  hands." 

An  overpowering  sense  of  wrong  and  outrage  had 
Power  in  its  grip  now,  and  his  naturally  sallow  skin 
had  assumed  an  ivory  whiteness  that  was  dreadful  to 
see.  So  rigid  was  his  self-control  that  he  gave  no  other 
sign  of  the  passion  that  was  convulsing  him.  Turning 
toward  the  door,  he  thrust  his  right  hand  to  the  side 
of  the  leather  belt  he  wore;  but  withdrew  it  instantly, 
for  he  was  a  law-abiding  citizen,  and  had  obeyed  in 
letter  and  spirit  the  recently  enacted  ordinance  against 
the  carrying  of  weapons.  He  would  have  gone  with- 
out another  word  had  not  MacGonigal  slipped  from 
behind  the  counter  with  the  deft  and  catlike  ease  of 
movement  which  some  corpulent  folk  of  both  sexes  seem 
to  possess.  Running  lightly  and  stealthily  on  his  toes, 
he  caught  Power's  arm  before  the  latter  was  clear  of 
the  veranda  which  shaded  the  front  of  the  store. 

"  Whar  'r  you  goin',  Derry  ?  "  he  asked,  with  a  note 
of  keen  solicitude  in  his  gruff  voice  that  came  oddly  in 
a  man  accustomed  to  the  social  amenities  of  a  mining 
camp. 

"  Leave  me  alone,  Mac.  I  must  be  alone !  "  Then 
Power  bent  a  flaming  glance  on  him.  "You've  told 
me  the  truth  ?  "  he  added  in  a  hoarse  whisper. 

"  Sure  thing.  You  must  ha  passed  the  minister 
between  here  an'  the  depot." 

"  He  had  been  there — to  marry  them?  " 

«  Yep." 

"And  everyone  is  up  at  the  ranch,  drinking  the 
health  of  Marten  and  his  bride.?" 

"  Guess  that's  so." 


At  ''MacGonigd's''  18 

Power  tried  to  shake  off  the  detaining  hand.  "  It's 
a  pity  that  I  should  be  an  uninvited  guest,  but  it 
can't  be  helped,"  he  said  savagely.  "  You  see,  I  was 
carrying  out  the  millionaire's  orders — earning  him 
more  millions — and  I  ought  to  have  taken  longer  over 
the  job.  And,  Nancy  too!  What  lie  did  they  tell  her 
about  me.'*  I  hadn't  asked  her  to  be  my  wife,  because 
it  wouldn't  have  been  fair;  yet — but  she  knew!  She 
knew !    Let  me  go,  Mac !  " 

MacGonigal  clutched  him  more  tightly.  "Ah,  say, 
Derry,"  he  cried  thickly,  "  hev'  you  forgot  you've  left 
me  yer  mother's  address  in  San  Francisco?  In  case 
of  accidents,  you  said.  Well,  am  I  ter  write  an'  tell 
her  you  killed  a  man  on  his  weddin'  day,  and  was  hanged 
for  it?" 

"  For  the  Lord's  sake,  don't  hold  me,  Mac ! " 

The  storekeeper,  with  a  wisdom  born  of  much  ex- 
perience, took  his  hand  off  Power's  arm  at  once,  but 
contrived  to  edge  forward  until  he  was  almost  facing 
his  distraught  friend. 

"  Now,  look-a  here !  "  he  said  slowly.  "  This  air  a 
mighty  bad  business;  but  you  cahn't  mend  it,  an'  ef 
you  go  cavortin'  round  in  a  red-eyed  temper  you'll  sure 
make  it  wuss.  You've  lost  the  gal — never  mind  how 
— an'  gittin'  a  strangle  hold  on  Marten  won't  bring 
her  back.  Yer  mother's  a  heap  more  to  you  ner  that 
gal — now." 

One  wonders  what  hidden  treasury  of  insight  into 
the  deeps  of  human  nature  MacGonigal  was  drawing 
on  by  thus  bringing  before  the  mind's  eye  of  an  un- 
happy son  the  mother  he  loved.  But  there  was  no 
gainsaying  the  soundness  and  efficiency  of  his  judgment. 


14  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

Only  half  comprehending  his  friendly  counselor's  pur- 
pose, Power  quivered  like  a  high-spirited  horse  under 
the  prick  of  a  spur.  He  put  his  hands  to  his  face, 
as  if  the  gesture  would  close  out  forever  the  horrific 
vision  which  the  memory  of  that  gray-haired  woman 
in  San  Francisco  was  beginning  to  dispel.  For  the  first 
time  in  his  young  life  he  had  felt  the  lust  of  slaying, 
and  the  instinct  of  the  jungle  thrilled  through  every 
nerve,  till  his  nails  clenched  and  his  teeth  bit  in  a  spasm 
of  sheer  delirium. 

MacGonigal,  despite  his  present  load  of  flesh,  must 
have  passed  through  the  fiery  furnace  himself  in  other 
days ;  for  he  recognized  the  varying  phases  of  the  ob- 
session against  which  Power  was  fighting. 

Hence,  he  knew  when  to  remain  silent,  and,  again, 
he  knew  when  to  exorcise  the  demon,  once  and  for  all, 
by  the  spoken  word.  It  was  so  still  there  on  that 
sun-scorched  plateau  that  the  mellow  whistle  of  an 
engine  came  full-throated  from  the  distant  railroad. 
The  lame  horse,  bothered  by  the  tight  bandage  which 
Power  had  contrived  out  of  a  girth,  pawed  uneasily  in 
his  stall.  From  the  reduction  works,  half  a  mile  away, 
came  the  grinding  clatter  of  a  mill  chewing  ore  in 
its  steel  jaws.  These  familiar  sounds  served  only  to 
emphasize  the  brooding  solitude  of  the  place.  Some  imp 
of  mischief  seemed  to  whisper  that  every  man  who 
could  be  spared  from  his  work,  and  every  woman  and 
child  able  to  walk,  was  away  making  merry  at  the 
wedding  of  Hugh  Marten  and  Nancy  Willard. 

The  storekeeper  must  have  heard  that  malicious 
prompting,  and  he  combated  it  most  valiantly. 

"  Guess  you'd  better  come  inside,  Derry,"  he  said, 


At  ''MacGonigaVs"  15 

with  quiet  sympathy.  "  You're  feelin'  mighty  bad,  an' 
I  allow  you  hain't  touched  a  squar'  meal  sence  the  Lord 
knows  when." 

He  said  the  right  thing  by  intuition.  The  mere 
fantasy  of  the  implied  belief  that  a  quantity  of  cold 
meat  and  pickles,  washed  down  by  a  pint  of  Milwau- 
kee lager,  would  serve  as  an  emollient  for  raw  emo- 
tion, restored  Power  to  his  right  mind.  He  placed  a 
hand  on  MacGonigal's  shoulder,  and  the  brown  eyes 
which  met  his  friend's  no  longer  glowered  with  frenzy. 

"  I'm  all  right  now,"  he  said,  in  a  dull,  even  voice ; 
for  this  youngster  of  twenty-five  owned  an  extra  share 
of  that  faculty  of  self-restraint  which  is  the  birthright 
of  every  man  and  woman  bom  and  bred  on  the  back- 
bone of  North  America.  "  I  took  it  pretty  hard  at  first, 
Mac;  but  I'm  not  one  to  cry  over  spilt  milk.  You 
know  that,  eh?  No,  I  can't  eat  or  drink  yet  awhile. 
I  took  a  lunch  below  here  at  the  depot.  Tell  me  this, 
will  you?     They — they'll  be  leaving  by  train?  " 

"  Yep.  Special  saloon  kyar  on  the  four-ten  east. 
I  reckon  you  saw  it  on  a  sidin',  but  never  suspicioned 
why  it  was  thar." 

"  East?    New  York  and  Europe,  I  suppose?" 

"  Guess  that's  about  the  line." 

"  Then  I'll  show  up  here  about  half-past  four.  Till 
then  I'll  fool  round  by  myself.  Don't  worry,  Mac. 
I  mean  that,  and  no  more." 

He  walked  a  few  yards  ;  but  was  arrested  by  a  cry : 

"  Not  that-a  way,  Derry !  Any  other  old  trail  but 
that !  " 

Then  Power  laughed ;  but  his  laughter  was  the  wail 
of  a  soul  in  pain,  for  he  had  gone  in  the  direction  of 


16  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

the  Dolores  ranch.  He  waved  a  hand,  and  the  gesture 
was  one  of  much  grace  and  distinction,  because  Power 
insensibly  carried  himself  as  a  born  leader  of  men. 

"  Just  quit  worrying,  I  tell  you,"  he  said  calmly. 
*'  I  understand.  The  boys  will  escort  them  to  that 
millionaire  saloon.  They'll  be  a  lively  crowd,  of  course ; 
but  they  won't  see  me,  never  fear." 

Then  he  strode  off,  his  spurs  jingling  in  rhythm  with 
each  long,  athletic  pace.  He  headed  straight  for  a 
narrow  cleft  in  the  hill  at  the  back  of  the  store,  a  cleft 
locally  known  as  the  Gulch,  and  beyond  it,  on  another 
plateau  sloping  to  the  southeast,  lay  the  Willard  home- 
stead. 

MacGonigal  watched  the  tall  figure  until  it  van- 
ished in  the  upward  curving  of  the  path.  Then  he 
rolled  the  cigar  between  his  heavy  lips  again  until  it 
was  securely  lodged  in  the  opposite  corner  of  his 
mouth;  but  the  maneuver  was  wasted, — the  cigar  was 
out, — and  such  a  thing  had  not  happened  in  twenty 
years !  To  mark  an  unprecedented  incident,  he  threw 
away  an  unconsumed  half. 

"  He's  crazy  ter  have  a  last  peep  at  Nancy,"  he  com- 
muned. "An'  they'd  have  made  a  bully  fine  pair,  too, 
ef  it  hadn't  been  fer  that  skunk  Marten.  Poor  Derry ! 
Mighty  good  job  I  stopped  home,  or  he'd  ha  gone  plumb 
to  hell." 

Of  course,  the  storekeeper  was  talking  to  himself; 
so  he  may  not  have  said  it,  really.  But  he  thought 
it,  and,  theologically,  that  is  as  bad.  Moreover,  he  might 
have  electrified  Bison  by  his  language  that  night  were 
he  gifted  with  second  sight;  for  he  had  seen  the  last 
of    the    proud,    self-contained    yet    light-hearted    and 


At  "  MacGonigaVs ''  17 

generous-souled  cavalier  whom  he  had  known  and  liked 
as  "  Deny  "  Power.  They  were  fated  to  meet  again 
many  times,  under  conditions  as  varying  as  was  ever 
recorded  in  a  romance  of  real  life ;  but  MacGonigal  had 
to  find  a  place  in  his  heart  for  a  new  man,  because 
"  Derry  "  Power  was  dead — had  died  there  in  the  open 
doorway  of  the  store — and  a  stranger  named  John 
Darien  Power  reigned  in  his  stead. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  TERMS 

The  Gulch  was  naked  but  unashamed,  and  lay  in 
a  drowsy  stupor.  An  easterly  breeze,  bringing  cool- 
ness elsewhere,  here  gathered  radiated  heat  from  gaunt 
walls  on  which  the  sun  had  poured  all  day,  and  desic- 
cating gusts  beat  on  Power's  face  like  superheated 
air  gushing  from  a  furnace.  Not  that  the  place  was 
an  inferno — far  from  it.  On  a  June  day  just  a  year 
ago  two  young  people  had  ridden  up  the  rough  trail 
on  their  way  to  the  Dolores  ranch,  and  the  girl  had 
called  the  man's  attention  to  the  exquisite  coloring 
of  the  rocks  and  the  profusion  of  flowers  which  decked 
every  niche  and  crevice.  It  may  be  that  they  looked 
then  through  eyes  which  would  have  tinted  with  rose 
the  dreariest  of  scenes ;  but  even  today,  in  another  cou- 
ple of  hours,  when  the  sun  was  sinking  over  the  moun- 
tain range  to  the  west,  the  Gulch  would  assuredly  don 
a  marvelous  livery  of  orange,  and  red,  and  violet.  Each 
stray  clump  of  stunted  herbage  which  had  survived 
the  drought  would  make  a  brave  show,  and  rock-mosses 
which  should  be  moist  and  green  would  not  spoil  the 
picture  because  they  were  withered  and  brown  or  black. 

But  Power,  despite  a  full  share  of  the  artist's  tem- 
perament, was  blind  to  the  fierce  blending  of  color 
which  the  cliffs  offered  in  the  blaze  of  sunlight.  His 
eyes  were  peering  into  his  own  soul,  and  he  saw  naught 

18 


The  Terms  of  Surrender  19 

there  but  dun  despair  and  icy  self-condemnation.  For 
he  blamed  himself  for  wrecking  two  lives.  If  Nancy 
Willard  could  possibly  find  happiness  as  Hugh  Mar- 
ten's wife,  he  might  indeed  have  cursed  the  folly  of  hesi- 
tation that  lost  her ;  but  there  would  be  the  salving  con- 
sciousness that  she,  at  least,  would  drink  of  the  nectar 
which  wealth  can  buy  in  such  Homeric  drafts.  But 
he  was  denied  the  bitter-sweet  recompense  of  altru- 
ism. He  knew  Nancy,  and  he  knew  Marten,  and  he 
was  sure  that  the  fairest  wild  flower  which  the  Dolores 
ranch  had  ever  seen  would  wilt  and  pine  in  the  exotic 
atmosphere  into  which  her  millionaire  husband  would 
plunge  her. 

Hugh  Marten  was  a  man  of  cold  and  crafty  nature. 
Success,  and  a  close  study  of  its  essentials,  had  taught 
him  to  be  studiously  polite,  bland,  even  benignant,  when 
lavish  display  of  these  qualities  suited  his  purposes. 
But  he  could  spring  with  the  calculating  ferocity  of 
a  panther  if  thereby  the  object  in  view  might  be  at- 
tained more  swiftly  and  with  equal  certainty.  His  up- 
ward progress  among  the  mining  communities  of  Colo- 
rado, New  Mexico,  and,  more  recently,  California  had 
been  meteoric — once  it  began.  None  suspected  the 
means  until  they  saw  the  end;  then  angry  and  disap- 
pointed rivals  would  compare  notes,  recognizing  too 
late  how  he  had  encouraged  this  group  to  fight  that, 
only  to  gorge  both  when  his  financial  digestion  was 
ready  for  the  meal.  He  had  the  faculty,  common  to 
most  of  his  type,  of  surrounding  himself  with  able 
lieutenants.  Thus,  John  Darien  Power  came  to  him 
with  no  stronger  backing  than  a  college  degree  in 
metallurgy  and  a  certificate  of  proficiency  as  a  mining 


20  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

engineer,  credentials  which  an  army  of  young  Ameri- 
cans can  produce;  but  he  discerned  in  this  one  young 
man  the  master  sense  of  the  miner's  craft,  and  pro- 
moted him  rapidly. 

He  paid  well,  too,  gave  excellent  bonuses  over  and 
above  a  high  salary — was,  in  fact,  a  pioneer  among 
those  merchant  princes  who  discovered  that  a  helper 
is  worth  what  he  earns,  not  what  he  costs — and  Power 
was  actually  entitled,  through  his  handling  of  the  Sac- 
ramento placer  mine,  to  a  sum  large  enough  to  war- 
rant marriage  with  the  woman  he  loved.  Not  for  one 
instant  had  the  assistant  dreamed  that  his  chief  was 
casting  a  covetous  eye  on  Nancy  Willard.  She  was 
a  girl  of  twenty,  he  a  man  looking  ten  years  older 
than  the  thirty-eight  years  he  claimed.  Apparently, 
she  was  wholly  unsuited  to  become  the  wife  of  a  finan- 
cial magnate.  She  knew  nothing  of  the  outer  maze 
of  society  and  politics;  while  it  was  whispered  that 
Marten  would  soon  run  for  state  governor,  to  be  fol- 
lowed by  a  senatorship,  and,  possibly,  by  an  embassy. 
To  help  such  ambitious  emprise  he  needed  a  skilled 
partner,  a  woman  of  the  world,  a  mate  born  and  reared 
in  the  purple,  and  none  imagined,  Power  least  of  any, 
that  the  vulture  would  swoop  on  the  pretty  little  song- 
bird which  had  emerged  from  the  broken-down  cage 
of  the  Dolores  ranch.  For  the  place  had  been  well 
named.  Misfortune  had  dogged  its  owner's  footsteps 
ever  since  the  death  of  his  wife  ten  years  earlier,  and 
Francis  Willard  was  buffeted  by  Fate  with  a  kind  of 
persistent  malevolence.  Neighboring  farms  had  been 
rich  in  metals ;  his  was  bare.  When  other  ranchers 
won    wealth    by    raising    stock,    he    hardly    held    his 


The  Terms  of  Surrender  21 

own  against  disease,  dishonest  agents,  and  unfortu- 
nate choice  of  markets.  This  present  arid  season  had 
even  taken  from  him  three-fourths  of  his  store 
cattle. 

Power  did  not  know  yet  how  the  marriage  had  been 
brought  to  an  issue  so  speedily.  In  time,  no  doubt, 
he  would  fit  together  the  pieces  of  the  puzzle ;  but  that 
day  his  wearied  brain  refused  to  act.  He  might  hazard 
a  vague  guess  that  he  had  been  misrepresented,  that 
his  absence  in  California  was  construed  falsely,  that 
the  letters  he  wrote  had  never  reached  the  girl's  hands ; 
but  he  was  conscious  now  only  of  a  numb  feeling  of 
gratitude  that  he  had  been  saved  from  killing  his 
usurper,  and  of  an  overmastering  desire  to  look  once 
more  on  Nancy's  face  before  she  passed  out  of  his 
life  forever. 

He  climbed  the  Gulch  to  the  divide.  From  that  point 
he  could  see  the  long,  low  buildings  of  the  ranch,  lying 
forlornly  in  the  midst  of  empty  stockyards  and  scorched 
grazing  land;  though  the  Dolores  homestead  itself 
looked  neither  forlorn  nor  grief-stricken.  A  hundred 
horses,  or  more,  were  tethered  in  the  branding  yard 
near  the  house.  Two  huge  tents  had  been  brought 
from  Denver;  the  smoke  of  a  field  oven  showed  that 
some  professional  caterer  was  busy ;  and  a  great  com- 
pany of  men,  women,  and  children  was  gathered  at 
that  very  moment  near  the  porch,  close  to  which  a 
traveling  carriage  was  drawn  up.  A  spluttering  feu 
de  joie,  sounding  in  the  still  air  like  the  sharp  crack- 
ing of  a  whip,  announced  that  the  departure  of  bride 
and  bridegroom  was  imminent;  but  the  pair  of  horses 
attached  to  the  carriage  reared  and  bucked  owing  to 


22  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

the  shouting,  and  Power  had  a  momentary  glimpse  of 
a  trim,  neat  figure,  attired  in  biscuit-colored  cloth, 
and  wearing  a  hat  gay  with  red  poppies,  standing  in 
the  veranda.  Close  at  hand  was  a  tall  man  dressed  in 
gray  tweed. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hugh  Marten  were  about  to  start  on 
their  honeymoon  trip  to  New  York  and  Europe! 

For  an  instant  Power's  eyes  were  blinded  with  tears ; 
but  he  brushed  away  the  weakness  with  a  savage  ges- 
ture, and  examined  the  stark  rocks  on  each  side  in 
search  of  a  nook  whence  he  might  see  without  being 
seen.  It  was  the  careless  glance  of  a  man  maddened 
with  well-nigh  intolerable  loss ;  yet,  had  he  known  how 
much  depended  on  his  choice  of  a  refuge,  even  in  the 
very  crux  of  his  grief  and  torment  he  would  have  given 
more  heed  to  it.  As  it  was,  he  retreated  a  few  paces, 
until  hidden  from  any  chance  eye  which  might  rove  that 
way  from  the  ranch,  chose  a  break  in  the  clifF  where 
an  expert  cragsman  could  mount  forty  feet  without 
difficulty,  and  finally  threw  himself  at  full  length  on 
a  ledge  which  sloped  inward,  and  was  overhung  by 
a  mass  of  red  granite,  all  cracked  and  blistered  by 
centuries  of  elemental  war.  Some  stunted  tufts  of 
alfalfa  grass  were  growing  on  the  outer  lip  of  the 
ledge.  By  taking  off  his  sombrero,  and  peeping  be- 
tween the  dried  stems,  he  could  overlook  the  cavalcade 
as  it  passed  without  anyone  being  the  wiser. 

The  surface  of  the  rock  was  so  hot  as  to  be  almost 
unbearable;  but  he  was  completely  oblivious  of  any 
sense  of  personal  discomfort.  That  side  of  the  Gulch 
was  in  shadow  now,  and  concealment  was  all  he  cared 
for.    He  was  sufficiently  remote  from  the  narrow  track 


The  Terms  of  Surrender  23 

to  which  the  horses  would  necessarily  be  confined  that 
he  ran  no  risk  of  yielding  to  some  berserker  fit  of  rage 
if  he  encountered  Marten's  surprised  scrutiny,  when, 
perchance,  he  might  have  flung  an  oath  at  the  man 
who  had  despoiled  him,  and  thereby  caused  distress 
to  the  woman  he  loved.  To  avoid  that  calamity,  he 
would  have  endured  worse  evils  than  the  blistering 
rock. 

He  remembered  afterward  that  while  he  waited, 
crouched  there  like  some  creature  of  the  wild,  his  mind 
was  nearly  a  blank.  He  was  conscious  only  of  a  dull 
torpor  of  wrath  and  suffering.  He  had  neither  plan 
nor  hope  for  the  future.  His  profession,  which  he 
loved,  had  suddenly  grown  irksome.  In  curiously  de- 
tached mood,  he  saw  the  long  procession  of  days  in 
the  mines,  in  the  mart,  in  the  laboratory.  And  the 
nights — ah,  dear  Heaven,  the  nights!  What  horror 
of  dreariness  would  come  to  him  then!  He  seemed  to 
hear  an  inner  voice  bidding  him  abandon  it  all,  and 
hide  in  some  remote  corner  of  the  world  where  none 
knew  him,  and  where  every  familiar  sight  and  sound 
would  not  remind  him  of  Nancy  Willard.  Nancy  Wil- 
lard — she  was  Nancy  Marten  now!  He  awoke  to  a 
dim  perception  of  his  surroundings  by  hearing  his 
teeth  grating.  And  even  that  trivial  thing  brought  an 
exquisite  pain  of  memory;  for  Nancy,  reading  a  book 
one  day,  came  across  a  passage  in  which  some  dis- 
appointed rascal  had  "  ground  his  teeth  in  baffled  rage," 
and  he  had  joined  in  her  shout  of  glee  at  the  notion 
that  anyone  should  express  emotion  so  crudely.  So, 
then,  a  man  might  really  vent  his  agony  in  that  wayl 
Truly,  one  lived  and  learned,  and  this  was  certainly 


24  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

an  afternoon  during  which  he  had  acquired  an  in- 
tensive knowledge  of  life  and  its  vicissitudes. 

But  now  the  elfin  screeching  of  excited  cowboys,  and 
a  continuous  fusillade  of  revolvers  fired  in  the  air  as 
their  owners  raced  alongside  the  lumbering  coach,  an- 
nounced that  the  wedded  pair  had  begun  their  long 
journey.  The  racket  of  yells  and  shooting,  height- 
ened by  weird  sounds  extracted  from  tin  trumpets,  bu- 
gles, and  horns,  drew  rapidly  nearer,  and,  at  any  other 
time.  Power  would  have  been  amused  and  interested 
by  the  sudden  eruption  of  life  in  the  canyon  brought 
about  by  this  unwonted  intrusion  on  its  peace.  A  horse 
or  so,  or  a  drove  of  steers,  these  were  normal  features 
of  existence,  and  no  respectable  denizen  of  the  Gulch 
would  allow  such  trifles  to  trouble  his  or  her  alert  wits 
for  a  moment.  But  this  tornado  of  pistol-shots  and 
bellowing  was  a  very  different  matter,  and  coyotes, 
jack-rabbits,  a  magnificent  mountain  sheep,  a  couple 
of  great  lizards — in  fact,  all  manner  of  furred  and 
scaly  creatures — deserted  lairs  where  they  might  have 
remained  in  perfect  security,  scampered  frantically  to 
other  retreats,  and  doubtless  cowered  there  till  dusk. 

A  coyote  raced  up  the  cleft  at  the  top  of  which 
Power  was  hidden ;  but,  ere  ever  he  had  seen  his  enemy, 
man,  he  was  aware  of  the  hidden  danger,  and  fled  to 
an  untainted  sanctuary  elsewhere.  He  had  hardly  van- 
ished before  the  leading  horsemen  galloped  into  sight, 
and  soon  a  motley  but  highly  picturesque  regiment  of 
Westerners  filled  the  trail  to  its  utmost  capacity.  Both 
men  and  horses  were  at  home  in  this  rugged  land,  and 
raced  over  its  inequalities  at  a  pace  which  would  have 
brought  down  many  a  rider  who  thinks  he  is  a  devil 


The  Terms  of  Surrender  25 

of  a  fellow  when  a  mounted  policeman  gallops  after 
him  in  the  park  and  cautions  him  sharply  to  moderate 
his  own  and  his  steed's  exuberance.  Even  in  the  joyous 
abandonment  of  this  typical  western  crowd  there  was 
a  species  of  order;  for  they  took  care  not  to  incom- 
mode the  coach,  a  cumbersome  vehicle,  but  the  only 
practicable  conveyance  of  its  kind  on  four  wheels  which 
could  be  trusted  to  traverse  that  rock-strewn  path.  Its 
heavy  body  was  slung  on  stout  leather  bands,  and  the 
wheels  were  low,  set  well  apart,  and  moving  on  axles 
calculated  to  withstand  every  sort  of  jolt  and  strain. 
The  driver  was  performing  some  excellent  balancing 
feats  on  his  perch  while  he  egged  on  a  willing  team 
or  exchanged  yells  with  some  other  choice  spirit  who 
tore  ahead  when  the  road  permitted.  Among  the  throng 
were  not  a  few  women  and  girls  from  Bison.  They  rode 
astride  like  their  men  folk,  and  their  shrill  voices 
mingled  cheerfully  in  the  din. 

Power  was  deaf  and  blind  to  the  pandemonium  and 
its  sprites:  he  had  eyes  only  for  the  two  people  seated 
in  the  coach.  The  ancient  equipage  owned  low  seats 
and  lofty  windows,  having  been  built  during  a  period 
•when  ladies'  headgear  soared  well  above  normal  stand- 
ards ;  so  its  occupants  were  in  full  view,  even  at 
the  elevation  from  which  the  unseen  observer  looked 
down. 

Marten,  a  powerfully  built  man,  of  commanding 
height  and  good  physique,  clean-shaven,  though  the 
habit  was  far  from  general  in  the  West  at  that  date, 
was  evidently  exerting  himself  to  soothe  and  interest 
his  pallid  companion.  His  swarthy  face  was  flushed, 
and  its  constant  smile  was  effortless ;  for  he  had  schooled 


26  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

himself  to  adapt  the  mood  to  the  hour.  As  the  per- 
sonnel of  the  cavalcade  changed  with  each  headlong 
gallop  or  sudden  halt,  he  nodded  affably  to  the  men, 
or  bowed  with  some  distinction  to  the  women ;  for  Mar- 
ten knew,  or  pretended  that  he  knew,  every  inhabitant 
of  Bison. 

His  wife  knew  them  too,  without  any  pretense;  but 
she  kept  her  eyes  studiously  lowered,  and,  if  she  spoke, 
used  monosyllables,  and  those  scarcely  audible,  for 
Marten  had  obviously  to  ask  twice  what  she  had  said 
even  during  the  fleeting  seconds  when  the  pair  were 
visible  to  Power.  Her  features  were  composed  almost 
to  apathy;  but  the  watcher  from  the  cliff,  who  could 
read  the  slightest  change  of  expression  in  a  face  as 
mobile  to  the  passing  mood  as  a  mountain  tarn  to 
the  breeze,  felt  that  she  was  fulfilling  a  compact  and 
holding  her  emotions  in  tense  subjection. 

He  hoped,  he  prayed,  with  frenzied  craving  of  the 
most  high  gods,  that  she  might  be  moved  to  lift  her 
eyes  to  his  aery;  but  the  petition  was  denied,  and  the 
last  memory  vouchsafed  of  her  was  the  sight  of  her 
gloved  hands  clasped  on  her  lap  and  holding  a  few 
sprigs  of  white  heather.  Now,  it  was  a  refined  ma- 
lignity of  Fate  which  revealed  that  fact  just  then,  be- 
cause heather  does  not  grow  in  Colorado,  and  the  girl 
had  culled  her  simple  little  bouquet  from  a  plant  which 
Power  had  given  her.  Once,  in  Denver,  he  had  ren- 
dered some  slight  service  to  an  expatriated  Scot,  and, 
when  a  sister  from  Perth  joined  her  brother,  bringing 
with  her  a  pot  of  Highland  soil  in  which  bloomed  the 
shrub  dear  to  every  Scottish  heart.  Power  was  offered 
a   cutting  "  for  luck."     Great  was  Nancy  Willard's 


The  Terms  of  Surrender  27 

delight  at  the  gift;  for,  like  the  majority  of  her  sex, 
she  yielded  to  pleasant  superstition,  and  the  fame  of 
white  heather  as  a  mascot  has  spread  far  beyond  the 
bounds  of  Great  Britain. 

Power  might  well  have  cried  aloud  in  his  pain  when 
he  discovered  that  his  lost  love  had  thought  of  him  at 
the  moment  she  was  leaving  her  old  home.  Perhaps 
he  did  utter  some  tortured  plaint:  he  never  knew,  be- 
cause of  what  happened  the  instant  after  Nancy  and 
her  spray  of  heather  were  reft  from  his  straining 
vision. 

One-thumb  Jake,  who  had  loitered  at  the  ranch  for 
a  farewell  drink,  rode  up  at  a  terrific  pace,  pulled  his 
bronco  on  to  its  haunches  alongside  the  coach,  and 
by  way  of  salute,  fired  three  shots  from  a  revolver  as 
quickly  as  finger  could  press  trigger. 

The  first  bullet  sang  through  the  air  not  more  than 
an  inch  above  Power's  forehead.  He  recalled  after- 
ward a  slight  stirring  of  his  hair  caused  by  the  pass- 
ing of  the  missile,  which  spat  viciously  against  the  wall 
of  rock  some  ten  feet  above  the  ledge.  The  next  two 
bullets  struck  higher,  and  their  impact  evidently  dis- 
turbed the  equipoise  of  a  mass  of  stone  already  disin- 
tegrated by  frost,  because  more  than  a  ton  of  debris 
crashed  down,  pinning  Power  to  the  ledge  and  nearly 
pounding  the  life  out  of  him.  The  resultant  cloud  of 
dust  probably  helped  to  render  him  unconscious.  At 
any  rate,  he  lay  there  without  word  or  movement,  and, 
if  he  were  dead,  his  bones  might  have  rested  many 
a  year  in  that  strange  tomb  unless  the  curiosity  of  some 
passerby  was  aroused  by  a  flock  of  quarreling  vultures 
— a  spectacle  so  common  in  cattle-land  that  the  way- 


28  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

farer  does  not  deviate  a  hand's  breadth  from  his  path 
because  of  it. 

Nancy  heard  the  thunder  of  the  falling  rocks,  and 
looked  out.  The  dust  pall  told  her  exactly  what  had 
occurred,  though  the  jubilant  congratulation  of  the 
shooter  by  the  driver  would  have  explained  matters 
in  any  event. 

"  Good  fer  you,  Jake !  "  he  shouted.  "  Gosh !  when 
you're  fed  up  on  cowpunchin'  you  kin  go  minin'  wid 
a  gun ! " 

She  saw,  too,  what  many  others  saw :  A  rattlesnake, 
rudely  dislodged  from  some  deep  crevice,  emerged  from 
the  heap  of  rubbish,  stopped  suddenly,  swelled  and 
puffed  in  anger,  rattled  its  tail-plates,  and  was  ol>- 
viously  primed  for  combat.  It  seemed  to  change  its 
mind,  however,  when  a  fourth  bullet  from  the  cowboy's 
revolver  grazed  a  big  brown  rhomboid  which  offered 
a  fair  target  just  below  the  curved  neck.  There  was 
another  shower  of  dust  and  granite  chips,  and,  when 
this  subsided,  the  reptile  had  vanished. 

Nancy  sat  back  in  the  coach.  Amid  a  chorus  of 
laughter  and  jeers  at  what  his  critics  were  pleased 
to  regard  as  bad  marksmanship,  Jake  spurred  his  horse 
into  a  gallop  again. 

"  What  was  it  ?  "  inquired  Marten.  Being  on  the 
other  side  of  the  vehicle,  he  was  unaware  of  the  cause 
of  this  slight  commotion. 

"  Nothing,  really,"  she  said  dully. 

"  Oh,  come  now,  little  woman — the  crowd  would  not 
yelp  at  Jake  for  no  reason." 

"  Well,  his  shots  brought  down  some  loose  stones, 
and  a  rattler  appeared  in  the  middle  of  the  heap.     It 


The  Terms  of  Surrender  29 

showed    fight,    too;    but    made    off   when    Jake    fired 
again." 

"Oh,  is  that  all?  There  wouldn't  be  a  snake  on 
the  ranch  if  your  father  had  kept  a  few  pigs." 

"  Poor  old  dad  couldn't  keep  anything — not  even 
me!" 

Her  listless  tone  might  have  annoyed  a  weaker  man ; 
but  Marten  only  laughed  pleasantly. 

"  I  should  be  very  unhappy  if  he  had  insisted  on 
keeping  you,"  he  said.  "  Of  course,  you  hate  having 
to  part  from  him,  and  from  a  place  where  you  have 
lived  during  a  few  careless  years;  but  you  will  soon 
learn  to  love  the  big  world  to  which  I  am  taking  you. 
Colorado  in  June  is  all  very  well;  but  it  can't  begin 
to  compare  with  London  in  July,  the  Engadine  in 
August,  and  Paris  in  September.  Don't  forget 
that  the  proper  study  of  mankind  is  man — and 
woman." 

And  so,  the  line  was  dangled  skilfully  before  her 
eyes,  and  the  spell  whispered  gently  into  her  ears, 
while  she,  mute  and  distraught,  wondered  whether  the 
dear  memories  of  Colorado  would  ever  weaken  and  grow 
dim.  Then  she  thought  of  Derry  Power,  and  a  film 
came  over  her  blue  eyes;  but  she  bit  her  under-lip  in 
brave  endeavor,  and  forced  a  smile  at  some  passing 
friend. 

•  •••••• 

Power  did  not  remain  unconscious  many  minutes. 
The  last  straggler  among  the  mounted  contingent  was 
clattering  through  the  canyon  when  the  man  who  had 
been  near  death  three  times  In  the  same  number  of 
seconds   awoke   to  a  burden   of  physical  pain  which, 


30  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

for  the  time,  effectually  banished  all  other  considera- 
tions. 

At  first  he  hardly  realized  where  he  was  or  what 
had  happened.  He  was  half  choked  with  dust,  and 
the  effort  of  his  lungs  to  secure  pure  air  undoubtedly 
helped  to  restore  his  senses.  It  was  humanly  impos- 
sible to  curb  the  impulse  toward  self-preservation,  and 
he  tried  at  once  to  free  his  limbs  of  an  intolerable 
weight.  He  was  able  to  move  slightly;  but  the  agony 
which  racked  his  left  leg  warned  him  that  the  limb 
was  either  broken  or  badly  sprained.  His  profession  had 
often  brought  similar  accidents  within  his  ken,  and 
indications  of  a  further  probable  subsidence  among  the 
fallen  stones — though  the  warning  was  so  slight  as  to 
be  negligible  to  the  ordinary  ear — told  him  that  he 
must  be  wary,  or  a  second  avalanche  might  kill  him 
outright. 

By  now  the  air  was  breathable,  and  he  could  see  into 
the  deserted  Gulch.  He  was  well  aware  that  no  one 
might  be  expected  to  pass  that  way  during  the  next 
hour.  Before  returning  to  the  feast  in  preparation  at 
the  ranch,  the  escort  would  await  the  departure  of 
the  train;  while  those  who  had  not  taken  part  in  the 
procession  would  certainly  remain  there  until  darkness 
ended  the  festivities.  So  he  had  the  choice  of  two  evils. 
He  could  either  possess  his  soul  in  patience  until  the 
mounted  contingent  began  to  straggle  back,  or  risk 
another  rock-fall. 

Naturally,  he  understood  the  cause  and  extent  of 
the  mishap,  and  his  present  mood  did  not  brook  the 
delay  entailed  by  the  safer  course.  Raising  head  and 
shoulders  by  lifting  himself  on  both  hands,  he  con- 


The  Terms  of  Surrender  81 

t rived  to  twist  round  on  his  left  side,  and  surveyed 
the  position.  It  was  bad  enough,  in  all  conscience,  but 
might  have  been  worse.  By  far  the  largest  piece  of 
granite  had  been  the  last  to  drop,  and  he  saw  that 
it  was  poised  precariously  on  some  smaller  lumps.  Any 
attempt  to  withdraw  either  of  his  legs  (the  left  one 
was  broken,  beyond  a  doubt)  would  disturb  its  balance, 
and,  if  it  toppled  on  his  body,  he  would  be  impris- 
oned without  hope  of  relief  by  his  own  effort.  Rising 
still  higher,  though  each  inch  gained  cost  a  twinge  of 
agony  that  brought  sweat  from  every  pore,  he  achieved 
a  half-sitting,  half-lolling  posture.  Then,  applying  his 
miner's  aptitude  to  the  dynamics  of  the  problem,  he 
packed  the  threatening  boulder  with  others  until  it 
was  wedged  into  partial  security. 

He  had  barely  finished  this  task,  which  only  a  splen- 
did vitality  enabled  him  to  carry  through,  when  his 
eye  was  caught  by  something  in  the  new  face  of  the 
rock  which  seemed  to  fascinate  him  for  a  second  or 
two.  Then  his  mouth  twisted  in  a  rictus  of  dreadful 
mirth,  so  wrung  was  he  with  pain,  yet  so  overcome  by 
what  he  had  seen. 

"  So  that  is  the  price ! "  he  almost  shouted,  accom- 
panying the  words  with  others  which  seldom  fell  from 
his  lips.  "  Those  are  the  terms  of  surrender,  eh?  Well, 
it  is  a  compact  made  in  hell ;  but  I'll  keep  it ! " 

After  that,  his  actions  savored  of  a  maniac's  cun- 
ning rather  than  the  desire  of  a  sane  man  to  save  his 
own  life.  Slowly,  with  never  a  groan,  he  extracted 
both  legs  from  beneath  the  pile  of  stones.  The  spurs 
were  his  chief  difficulty.  One  was  held  so  tightly  that 
he  had  to  tear  his  foot  out  by  main  force ;  but  luckily 


32  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

it  was  the  right  foot,  or  he  could  not  have  done  it. 
Something  had  to  give  way  under  the  strain,  and  ulti- 
mately the  spur  was  released  by  the  yielding  of  a  strap 
at  a  buckle.  The  torture  he  suffered  must  have  been 
intense ;  but  he  uttered  no  sound  save  an  occasional  sob 
of  effort,  when  all  the  strength  of  hands  and  wrists 
were  needed  to  move  one  or  other  of  the  chunks  of 
granite  without  dislodging  the  grim  monster  he  had 
chained. 

At  last  he  was  free.  He  felt  the  injured  limb,  which 
was  almost  benumbed,  and  ascertained  beyond  doubt 
that  it  was  fractured  below  the  knee.  But  he  was  safe 
enough,  even  though  the  precarious  structure  of  stones 
collapsed,  and  any  other  victim  of  like  circumstances 
would  have  been  content  with  that  tremendous  achieve- 
ment.   Not  so  John  Darien  Power. 

The  mere  fact  that  he  need  now  only  lie  still  until 
assistance  reached  him  seemed  to  lash  him  into  a  fresh 
panic  of  energy.  After  a  hasty  glance  into  the  canyon, 
obviously  to  find  out  whether  or  not  anyone  was  ap- 
proaching, he  began  to  throw  pieces  of  debris, into  the 
fissure  left  bare  by  the  fall.  When  he  had  exhausted 
the  store  within  reach  he  crawled  to  a  new  supply,  and 
piled  stone  upon  stone  until  the  rock  wall  was  covered 
to  a  height  of  more  than  two  feet.  Even  then  he  was 
not  satisfied;  but  moved  a  second  time,  his  apparent 
object,  if  any,  being  to  give  the  scene  of  his  accident 
the  semblance  of  a  stone  slide. 

Finally,  he  did  the  maddest  thing  of  all,  lowering 
himself  down  the  cleft  with  a  rapidity  that  was  almost 
inconceivable  in  a  man  with  a  broken  leg.  On  reach- 
ing the  level  of  the  trail  he  slipped  and  fell.     That 


The  Terms  of  Surrender  88 

drew  a  queer  sort  of  subdue5  shriek  from  his  parched 
throat;  but,  after  a  moment  of  white  agony,  he  began 
to  crawl  in  the  direction  of  the  ranch.  He  chose 
that  way  deliberately,  because  the  slope  was  down- 
hill, and  not  so  rough  as  in  the  upper  part  of  the 
gorge.  With  care,  for  he  meant  to  avoid  another  slip, 
but  never  halting,  he  dragged  his  crippled  body  fully 
a  hundred  yards  from  the  foot  of  the  ledge.  Then 
he  crept  into  the  shade,  at  a  spot  where  the  side 
of  the  Gulch  rose  sheer  for  twenty  feet,  turned  over 
on  his  back,  and  lay  quietly. 

He  had  almost  reached  the  end  of  his  tether.  His 
face  was  drawn,  and  disfigured  with  dirt  and  perspira- 
tion. His  eyelids  dropped  involuntarily,  as  though  to 
shut  out  a  world  which  had  suddenly  become  sav- 
agely hostile;  but  his  lips  moved  in  a  wan  grimace,  a 
wry  parody  of  the  generous,  warm-hearted  smile  that 
people  had  learned  to  associate  with  Derry  Power. 

"  My  poor  Nancy  !  "  he  murmured  brokenly.  "  My 
dear  lost  sweetheart!  If  the  Fates  have  bought  you 
from  me,  I  was  no  party  to  the  deal,  and  I'll  exact 
the  last  cent  on  it — I  swear  that  by  your  own  sprig 
of  white  heather !  Someone  will  pay,  in  blood  and  tears, 
or  I'll  know  the  reason  why!  Yes,  someone  will  pay! 
Power  versus  Marten,  with  the  devil  as  arbitrator! 
Marten  has  won  the  first  round;  but  I'll  take  it  to  a 
higher  court.  I'll  choke  the  life  out  of  him  yet — choke 
—the  beast!" 

Of  course,  Power  was  light-headed. 


CHAPTER  III 

SHOWING  HOW  POWER  ACQUIRED 
A  LIMP 

If  any  sentient  thought  loomed  vaguely  through  the 
haze  of  pain  and  exhaustion  which  enwrapped  Power 
like  a  pall,  it  was  that  he  would  probably  lie  there 
a  long  time  before  help  came;  yet  he  had  hardly  ut- 
tered that  half-delirious  vow  before  he  was  aware  of 
an  animal  snuffing  cautiously  around  him,  and  the 
knowledge  galvanized  him  into  a  species  of  activity. 
He  turned  on  his  right  side,  and  raised  himself  on 
one  hand,  the  fingers  of  which  closed  instinctively  on 
a  heavy  stone  as  supplying  a  weapon  of  defense. 

But  his  eyes  rested  only  on  a  dog,  a  dapper  fox- 
terrier,  whose  furtive  curiosity  changed  instantly  to 
alarm,  as  it  retreated  some  distance,  and  barked  ex- 
citedly. Then  Power  saw  the  animal's  master,  a 
stranger,  or,  at  any  rate,  a  newcomer,  in  the  dis- 
trict, a  man  of  about  his  own  age,  who  rode  a 
compactly-built,  pony  with  the  careless  ease  of  good 
horsemanship,  and  was  dressed  de  rigueur,  except  for 
the  broad-brimmed  hat  demanded  by  the  Colorado  sun. 

Evidently  the  horseman  was  not  surprised  at  find- 
ing someone  lying  in  the  Gulch. 

"  Hullo !  "  he  cried.     "  Had  a  spill  ?  " 

Power  tried  to  speak;  but  the  dust  and  grit  in  his 
throat  rendered  his  words  almost  inaudible.     Then  the 

34 


Showing  How  Power  Acquired  a  Limp    35 

other  understood  that  if,  as  he  imagined,  copious 
drafts  of  champagne  had  caused  some  unaccustomed 
head  to  reel,  the  outcome  was  rather  more  serious  than 
a  mere  tumble.  He  urged  the  pony  rapidly  nearer, 
and  dismounted,  and  a  glance  at  Power's  face  dispelled 
his  earlier  notion. 

"  What's  up  ?  "  he  inquired  in  a  sympathetic  tone. 
"  Are  you  hurt  ?  " 

Power's  second  effort  at  ordered  speech  was 
more  successful.  "  Yes,"  he  said.  "  My  leg  is 
broken." 

"Ah,  that's  too  bad.     Which  leg.?" 

«  The  left." 

"  Were  you  thrown  ?  " 

"  No." 

The  stranger  noted  the  soiled  condition  of  the  in- 
jured man's  clothing.  He  saw  that  a  spur  had  been 
torn  off,  and  among  the  drying  dirt  on  Power's  face 
and  hands  were  some  more  ominous  streaks;  since  a 
man  may  not  squirm  in  agony  beneath  a  shower  of 
jagged  granite  and  escape  some  nasty  abrasions  of 
the  skin. 

"  I  see,"  he  said  gently.  "  You  fell  from  up  there 
somewhere,"  and  he  looked  at  the  cliff,  "  tripped  over 
that  missing  spur,  I  suppose.  Well,  what's  to  be 
done?  Were  you  at  the  ranch?  I  didn't  happen  to 
come  across  you.     Shall  I  take  you  there?  " 

"  No,  please — to  Bison — to  MacGonigal's  store." 

"  Ah,  yes.  But  it's  an  awkward  business.  You  can't 
possibly  hold  yourself  in  the  saddle.  Can  you  stand 
on  one  leg,  even  for  a  few  seconds  ?  " 

"I  fear  not.     I'm  about  done." 


86  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

"  But  if  I  carry  you  to  the  face  of  the  rock  there, 
and  prop  you  against  it?  " 

«  Yes,  I'll  do  that." 

This  friend  in  need  pulled  the  reins  over  the  pony's 
head,  passed  them  through  his  arm,  lifted  Power,  not 
without  some  difficulty,  and  brought  him  to  a  spot 
where  the  precipice  rose  like  a  wall. 

"  There  you  are ! "  he  gasped ;  for  he  was  of  slen- 
der proportions,  and  Power's  weight  was  deceptive, 
owing  to  his  perfect  physical  fitness.  "  Now  I'll  mount, 
and  hold  you  as  comfortably  as  I  can ;  but  I  don't  know 
how  this  fat  g^^g^o.  will  behave  under  a  double  load, 
so  I  must  have  my  hands  free  at  first.  Will  you  grip 
me  tight?     It  may  hurt  like  sin ^" 

"  Go  right  ahead !  "  said  Power. 

Sure  enough,  when  the  pony  found  what  was  ex- 
pected of  him,  he  snorted,  raised  head  and  tail,  and 
trotted  a  few  indignant  paces. 

The  rider  soon  quieted  him  to  a  walk ;  but  they  were 
abreast  of  the  scene  of  Power's  accident  before  he 
was  aware  that  the  man  clasping  his  body  had 
uttered  neither  word  nor  groan,  though  the  pranc- 
ing of  the  horse  must  have  caused  him  intense 
agony. 

"  By  Jove ! "  came  the  involuntary  cry,  "  you've  got 
some  sand!  I'd  have  squealed  like  a  stuck  pig  if  I 
was  asked  to  endure  that.  Who  are  you?  I'm  Robert 
H.  Benson,  Mr.  Marten's  private  secretary." 

"  My  name  is  Power,"  was  the  answer,  in  a  thick 
murmur. 

"Bower?" 

"  No--Power.'^ 


Showing  How  Power  Acquired  a  Limp    37 

"  Not  John  Darien  Power,  who  was  at  Sacra- 
mento ! " 

"  Yes." 

"  Gee  whizz !  I've  written  you  several  letters.  You 
remember  my  initials,  R.  H.  B.?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Can  you  talk?    Say  if  you'd  rather  not." 

"  No,  no.  It's  all  right.  Anyhow — I'd — sooner — 
try." 

"  Does  the  boss  know  you're  here?  " 

"  I  guess  not.  I  wrote  him — to  Denver ;  but  he's  been 
engaged — otherwise." 

"Ra-ther!  Getting  wed.  You've  heard?  I'm  sure 
you're  as  much  surprised  as  any  of  us.  You  could  have 
knocked  me  down  with  a  feather  when  he  told  me 
why  I  was  wired  to  come  West  by  next  train  from  New 
York.  *  I  want  you  to  take  hold,'  he  said.  *  I'm  off 
to  Europe  for  six  months  on  my  wedding  trip.'  That 
was  the  day  before  yesterday,  and  here  he's  gone 
already!  I  had  a  sort  of  notion,  too,  that  our 
beloved  employer  would  never  take  unto  himself  a 
wife,  or,  if  he  did,  that  the  U.  S.  A.  would  hear 
about  it." 

A  hard  smile  illuminated  the  pallor  of  Power's  face. 
"  Marten  doesn't  hire  a  brass  band  when  he  has  any 
startling  proposition  in  mind,"  he  said. 

Benson  laughed.  He  was  a  cheerful,  outspoken 
youngster — exactly  the  kind  of  private  secretary  the 
secretive  millionaire  might  have  been  expected  to  avoid 
like  the  plague,  if  Marten  had  not  chosen  him  delib- 
erately because  of  those  very  qualities. 

"  No,"  he  chuckled.     "  You  and  I  know  that,  don't 


38  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

we?  But  signing  on  for  a  wife  is  a  different  matter 
to  securing  an  option  on  a  placer  mine.  I  should  have 
thought  there  would  be  things  doing  when  H.  M.  joined 
the  noble  army  of  benedicts,  especially  after  he  had 
sorted  out  such  a  daisy.  .  .  .  Sorry,  Power !  The  peak 
of  this  saddle  must  be  dashed  uncomfortable.  And, 
perhaps,  I'm  not  carrying  you  to  rights.  One  ought 
to  be  taught  these  things.  Now,  a  cavalry  soldier 
would  be  trained  in  the  art  of  picking  up  a  wounded 
mate,  and  in  carrying  him,  too." 

"  It's  not  far.     I  can  last  out." 

"  You  don't  mind  having  a  pow-wow  ?  Guess  you 
prefer  it?  You  knew  Miss  Willard,  I  suppose?  By 
the  way,  were  you  coming  to  the  wedding?  " 

"  No.     I  am  here  by  chance." 

"  Well,  of  course,  I  rather  fancied  that.  If  I  had 
been  asked  offhand  how  much  time  that  Sacramento 
job  would  use  up,  I  should  have  said  another  three 
months,  at  least.     Is  all  the  machinery  there?  " 

"  Yes." 

"Pumps,  and  all?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Sorry  if  I  appear  inquisitive,  but- " 

"  The  pumps  are  working.  I  got  a  hustle  on  the 
contractors." 

"  Great  Scott !  I  should  think  so,  indeed.  They'll 
make  a  song  about  it  in  Chicago.  Have  you  sent 
in  the  consulting  engineer's  certificate  ?  " 

"Yes.     It's  in  Denver." 

"  Then  I'll  tell  you  something  that  is  good  for 
broken  legs.  The  boss  was  talking  of  you  only  yes- 
terday.    He  said  you  were  to  collect   five  thousand 


Showing  How  Power  Acquired  a  Limp    89 

dollars  when  that  placer  mine  was  in  shape.  He  for- 
gets nothing,  does  he?  " 

"  Nothing." 

Power's  stricken  state  was  sufficient  excuse  for  any 
seeming  lack  of  gratitude,  and  his  rescuer's  mind 
reverted  to  the  more  immediate  topic  of  the  mar- 
riage. 

"  I  asked  if  you  were  acquainted  with  Miss  Wil- 
lard,"  he  went  on.  "  Naturally,  you  must  have  seen 
her  often.  She  was  born  and  bred  on  this  ranch,  I 
believe." 

"  Bred  here,  yes ;  but  born  near  Pueblo,  I've  been 
told." 

"  Say,  isn't  she  a  peach  ?  " 

"  A  pretty  girl,  very." 

"  Rather  quiet,  though.  Kind  of  subdued,  to  my 
taste.  Life  on  the  Dolores  ranch  must  have  been  a 
mighty  tough  proposition,  I  imagine.  But  she'll 
brighten  up  as  Mrs.  Marten.    They  all  do." 

"  Is  Marten  a  sultan,  then?  " 

The  private  secretary  chortled  over  the  joke.  "  I'm 
jiggered  if  I  could  have  pulled  off  a  wheeze  like  that 
if  I  had  been  chucked  off  a  cliff  and  my  leg  was 
out  of  gear ! "  he  cried.  "  No,  my  boy.  Marten  has 
a  clean  record  in  that  respect.  I've  never  known  him 
look  twice  at  any  woman;  though  he's  had  chances 
in  plenty.  What  I  mean  is  that  these  sweet  young 
things  who  have  never  seen  a  real  store,  and  don't  know 
sable  from  dyed  rabbit,  wake  up  amazingly  when  they're 
Mrs.  Somebody  of  Somewhere.  Look  at  Mrs.  Van 
Pieter!  A  year  ago  she  was  keeping  tab  on  people 
who   hired   her   father's   canoes    at   Portland,   Maine, 


40  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

and  it's  hardly  a  week  since  I  met  her  in  Tif- 
fany's, matching  pearls  at  a  thousand  dollars  a 
pick." 

"  What  were  you  doing  in  Tiffany's  ?  " 

The  question  seemed  to  take  Benson  by  surprise; 
but,  though  he  might  be  talkative  as  a  parrot,  he  did 
not  discuss  his  employer's  personal  behests. 

"  Having  a  look  around,"  he  said. 

"  I  thought  you  might  be  buying  Mrs.  Marten's  wed- 
ding gift,"  went  on  Power. 

"  Well,  as  a  guesser,  you'd  come  out  first  in  a  prize 
competition." 

"  It  was — ^just — curiosity.  I  wondered — what — 
Marten  gave  her." 

"  That's  no  secret.  She  wore  it  today.  A  col- 
larette of  diamonds." 

"Ah,  a  collar!  Has  it  a  golden  padlock?  Is  there 
a  leash?  " 

"  Say,  now !  Aren't  you  feeling  pretty  bad  ?  We're 
going  downhill,  and  it  jolts.  But  we're  near  that  store. 
What's  the  name?" 

"  MacGonigal's." 

"  To  be  sure.  I  had  forgotten.  Queer  fellow,  the 
proprietor.  Looks  like  a  character  out  of  one  of  Bret 
Harte's  novels.     Is  there  a  doctor  in  Bison?  " 

"  Yes — of  a  sort.    He's  sober,  some  days." 

"  Let's  hope  this  is  one  of  the  days." 

"  Drunk  or  sober,  he  can  pull  a  leg  straight  and 
tie  it  in  splints." 

"  But  it  ought  to  be  fixed  in  plaster  of  Paris. 
That's  the  latest  dodge.  Then  you'll  be  able  to  hob- 
ble  about   in   less   than   a   month.      Why,   here's   the 


Showing  How  Power  Acquired  a  Ldmp    41 

storekeeper  himself.  He  must  have  been  looking  this 
way." 

"  He  was  expecting  me.  I  promised  to  meet  him 
about  four  o'clock." 

"  Well,  you're  on  time." 

"  Thanks  to  you." 

"  Ah,  come  off !  A  lot  I've  done ;  though  I  do  be- 
lieve it  was  better  to  keep  up  a  steady  flow  of  chatter 
than  to  be  asking  you  every  ten  yards  how  you  were 
feeling.  .  .  .  Hi,  there!  I've  brought  your  friend 
Power;  but  he's  in  rather  bad  shape.  Had  a  fall  up 
in  the  Gulch,  and  one  leg  is  crocked." 

The  pony  needed  no  urging  to  halt,  and  Power,  whose 
head  was  sunk  between  his  shoulders,  looked  as  if  he 
would  become  insensible  again  at  the  mere  thought  of 
renewed  exertion. 

"  A  fall ! "  repeated  MacGonigal,  moving  ponder- 
ously to  the  near  side,  and  peering  up  into  Power's 
face.  "  Well,  ef  I  ain't  dog-goned !  What  sort  of  a 
fall?" 

"  Just  the  common  variety — downward,"  said  Ben- 
son. "  His  left  leg  is  broken  below  the  knee.  Can 
you  hold  him  until  I  hitch  this  fiery  steed  to  a  post.'* 
Then  I'll  help  carry  him  to  a  bedroom.  After  that, 
if  I  can  be  of  any  use,  tell  me  what  to  do,  or  where 
to  go — for  the  doctor,  I  mean." 

By  this  time  MacGonigal  had  assured  himself  that 
Power's  clothing  was  not  full  of  bullet-holes,  and  he 
began  to  believe  that  Benson,  whom  he  recognized, 
was  telling  the  truth. 

"  Give  him  to  me,"  he  said,  with  an  air  of  quiet 
self-confidence.      "  Back   of  some   sugar   casks   in   the 


42  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

warehouse  thar  you'll  find  a  stretcher.  Bring  that 
along,  an'  we'll  lay  hira  in  the  veranda  till  the  doc 
shows  up." 

Soon  the  hardly  conscious  sufferer  was  reposing  with 
some  degree  of  comfort  in  a  shaded  nook  with  his  back 
to  the  light.  MacGonigal,  whose  actions  were 
strangely  deft-handed  and  gentle  for  so  stout  a  man, 
was  persuading  him  to  drink  some  brandy. 

"  He  has  collapsed  all  at  once,"  said  Benson 
commiseratingly.  "  He  perked  up  and  chatted  in 
great  shape  while  I  was  bringing  him  through  the 
Gulch." 

"  Did  he  now?  .  ,  ,  Yes,  Derry,  it's  me,  Mac.  Just 
another  mouthful.  .  .  .  An'  what  did  he  talk  about, 
Mr.  Benson?  " 

"  Oh,  mostly  about  the  wedding,  I  guess." 

"  Nat'rally.  He'd  be  kind  of  interested  in  hearin' 
how  Marten  had  scooped  up  Nancy  Willard." 

Some  acrid  quality  in  the  storekeeper's  tone  must 
have  pierced  the  fog  which  had  settled  on  Power's 
brain.  He  raised  a  hand  to  push  away  the  glass  held 
to  his  lips. 

"  Say,  I've  only  secured  a  broken  leg,  Mac,"  he 
murmured,  smiling  into  the  anxious  face  bent  over 
him.  "  I  don't  want  to  be  doped  as  well.  Perhaps 
Mr.  Benson  will  mount  that  nag  of  his,  and  bring 
Peters." 

"Look-a  here,  Derry,  hadn't  we  better  send  to 
Denver  ?  " 

"  No.     Peters  has  set  dozens  of  legs  and  arms." 

"  I  guess  he's  back  at  the  ranch.  He  went  thar, 
an'  I  hain't  seen  him  among  the  crowd." 


Showing  How  Power  Acquired  a  Limp    43 

"  Is  he  a  tall,  red-whiskered  chap,  with  a  nose  that 
needs  keeping  out  of  the  sun?  "  broke  in  Benson. 

"Yep.     That's  him." 

"  Well,  he's  there  now — and — not  so  bad.  Does  he 
really  understand  bone-setting?  " 

"  Sure.  He's  all  to  rights  when  not  too  much  in 
likker." 

"  I'll  have  him  here  in  half  an  hour." 

Benson  whistled  to  the  dog,  and  they  heard  the 
clattering  hoofbeats  of  the  cob's  hurried  departure. 
MacGonigal  brought  a  chair,  and  sat  by  his  friend's 
side. 

"  Was  it  a  reel  tumble,  Derry?  "  he  asked  softly. 

"  Seems  like  it,  Mac.  Don't  worry  your  kind  old 
fat  head.  No  one  saw  me.  Let  me  lie  quiet  now, 
there's  a  good  soul.  I've  done  enough  thinking  for 
today." 

"  Say,  Boy,  kin  yer  smoke?  " 

"  No — not  till  the  doc  is  through." 

MacGonigal  bit  the  end  off  a  cigar,  bit  it  viciously, 
as  if  he  were  annoyed  at  it.  Then  he  struck  a  match 
by  drawing  it  sharply  along  the  side  of  his  leg,  and 
lit  the  cigar;  but  not  another  word  did  he  utter  until 
a  thunder  of  hoofs  disturbed  the  hot  silence  of  the 
afternoon. 

"  Guess  that's  some  of  the  boys  comin'  from  the 
depot,"  whispered  Mac.  "  They'll  not  suspicion  you're 
here,  Derry,  an'  I'll  soon  have  a  stampede  by  tellin' 
'em  the  doc  is  loose  among  the  bottles." 

True  to  his  promise,  he  got  rid  of  the  thirsty  ones 
quickly;  for  this  smaller  batch  had  not  even  awaited 
the  departure  of  the  train. 


44  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

"  Air  you  awake,  Derry  ?  "  he  inquired,  when  he  had 
crept  back  softly  to  his  chair. 

"  Yes." 

"  What's  this  yarn  about  One-thumb  Jake  shootin' 
a  rattler?  " 

"  I — don't  know.  He  didn't  shoot  me,  Mac.  I  got 
slammed  on  a  rock,  good  and  hard." 

"  I  on'y  axed  because  I'm  nearly  fed  up  with  Jake 
an'  his  gun-play." 

"  Ah,  quit  it,  you  sleuth.  Jake  wouldn't  pull  his 
gun  on  me,  not  even  at  Marten's  bidding." 

"  He  kin  be  the  biggest  damn  fool  in  Bison  when 
he's  loaded.    Anyhow,  I'll  take  your  say-so." 

There  was  another  period  of  quietude,  when  brood- 
ing thought  sat  heavy  on  MacGonigal,  and  pain 
gnawed  Power  with  its  sharpest  tooth.  Then  came  the 
sound  of  galloping  horses  again,  and  Benson  appeared, 
guiding  a  big  man  who  rolled  in  his  walk;  for  the 
fast  canter  had  stirred  many  varieties  of  alcohol 
in  an  overburdened  system.  The  private  secretary's 
voice  was  raised  in  order  that  the  others  might 
hear. 

"  I  would  advise  you  to  bandage  the  limb  suffi- 
ciently to  give  Mr.  Power  some  sort  of  ease  until  Dr. 
Stearn  comes  from  Denver,"  he  was  urging.  *'  I  am 
sure  that  Mr.  Marten  would  wish  this  case  to  be  at- 
tended by  his  own  doctor,  and  I  know  that  Dr.  Stearn 
attends  him." 

"  Stearn !  What  does  that  old  mutt  know  about 
surgery?"  shouted  Peters.  "I  could  set  a  compound 
fracture  while  he  was  searching  around  for  his  eye- 
glasses.  .    .    .   Hullo,  Mac!    You're  always  the  right 


Showing  How  Power  Acquired  a  Limp    45 

man  in  the  right  place.  Bring  me  a  highball,  to  clear 
the  dust  out  of  the  pipes." 

"  You  jest  fix  Derry  first,  Peters,  an'  you  kin  hev 
two  highballs." 

The  red-whiskered  man,  whose  medical  degree  was 
a  blend  of  sheer  impudence  and  a  good  deal  of  rough- 
and-ready  experience,  knew  MacGonigal  so  well  that 
he  did  not  attempt  to  argue. 

"  Very  well,"  he  said  sulkily.  "  Break  up  an  ^gg 
box,  and  saw  it  into  eighteen-inch  lengths,  four  inches 
wide.  You  have  a  roll  of  lint  and  scissors?  I'll  rip 
up  his  trousers,  and  have  a  look  at  the  place." 

His  actions  were  decided,  but  somewhat  awkward. 
When  Power  winced  because  of  a  careless  handling  of 
the  injured  limb,  he  only  guffawed. 

"  Nips  you  a  bit !  "  he  grunted.  "  Of  course  it  does. 
I'd  like  to  know  what  you  expected.  Did  you  fancy 
you  could  flop  over  the  Gulch  like  a  crow?  .  .  .  Oh, 
here  we  are !  Just  an  ordinary  smash.  Hurry  up  with 
those  splints,  Mac.  Now,  just  set  your  teeth  and 
grin  hard  while  I  pull.  .  .  .  There!  Did  you  hear 
it?  I'll  not  hurt  you  more  than  I  can  help  while  I 
do  the  dressing.  Got  any  bromide  in  that  den  of  yours, 
Mac?  Well,  give  him  a  ten-grain  dose  every  three 
hours  till  he  sleeps.  Get  the  rest  of  his  clothes  off, 
keep  him  in  bed  for  three  weeks,  and  the  rest  may  be 
left  safely  to  Nature.  Gee  whizz!  I'm  chewing  mud. 
Where  in  hell  do  you  keep  your  whisky?" 

"  Doctor  "  Peters  had  a  professional  manner  which 
did  not  inspire  confidence;  but  he  seemed  to  under- 
stand what  he  was  about,  and  Benson,  when  he  could 
be  of  no  further  service,  went  to  the  reduction  mill, 


46  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

where  he  had  business  which  d^^tained  him  until  a 
late  hour.  Next  morning,  on  his  way  to  Denver,  he 
called  at  the  store,  and  visited  Power,  who  was  feeling 
a  great  deal  better,  and  was  confident  that  the  dam- 
aged limb  would  soon  be  as  sound  as  ever. 

"  I  hope  you  won't  think  it  necessary  to  trouble 
Mr.  Marten  with  any  report  of  my  accident,"  went 
on  the  invalid.  "  You  see,  in  a  sort  of  a  way,  it  hap- 
pened in  connection  with  his  marriage,  as  I  was  watch- 
ing the  festivities  when  it  happened — had  my  eyes  any- 
where but  where  they  ought  to  be,  I  suppose — and  if 
his  wife  came  to  hear  of  it  she  might  take  it  to  heart. 
Sometimes  a  woman  has  odd  notions  about  such  things 
occurring  on  her  wedding  day." 

"  Right  you  are,"  agreed  Benson  cheerfully. 

A  remark  dropped  by  the  manager  of  the  mill  had 
supplied  a  reason  for  the  young  engineer's  interest  in 
the  marriage,  and  he  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that 
the  sooner  the  whole  affair  was  forgotten  the  better 
it  would  be  for  all  parties. 

"  I'll  be  in  Denver  till  September  or  thereabouts ; 
but  I'll  be  seeing  you  long  before  then,"  he  continued. 
"  What  about  squaring  your  account?  I  think  I  have 
all  the  details  in  the  office." 

"  Pay  what  is  coming  to  me  by  check  to  Smith  & 
Moffat's  bank,"  said  Power.  "  They'll  let  me  know 
when  they  get  the  money,  and  you  can  mail  a  receipt 
here  for  my  signature.  By  the  way,  I  wish  to  resign 
my  position  on  Marten's  staff  as  from  yesterday." 

"  Sorry  to  hear  that.    Do  you  really  mean  it?  " 

«  Yes." 

"  Then   I'll  put  that  through,   also.     Goodby,  old 


Showing  How  Power  Acquired  a  Limp    47 

chap,  and  good  luck.  You'll  be  well  looked  after, 
I  suppose  ?  " 

"  I  couldn't  be  in  better  hands  than  Mac's.  If  he 
didn't  own  a  hard  head,  his  big  heart  would  have  ruined 
him  long  ago." 

"  An  unusual  combination,"  laughed  Benson,  and  his 
eyes  met  Power's  quizzically.  "  Well,  so  long !  Let 
me  know  if  I  can  do  anything." 

Beyond  the  purely  business  formalities  connected 
with  the  payment  of  Power's  salary  and  the  accept- 
ance of  his  resignation,  Benson  heard  little  of  him 
until  ten  days  later,  when  a  telegram  reached  him 
in  the  early  morning.  It  was  from  MacGonigal,  and 
read: 

"  Don't  like  the  look  of  Power's  leg.    Send  doctor." 

That  afternoon  Benson  brought  Dr.  Steam  to  the 
store,  and  MacGonigal  explained  that  from  some  re- 
mark grunted  by  Peters  when  quite  sober,  and  from 
personal  observation,  he  was  not  satisfied  with  the 
appearance  of  Power's  injured  limb.  The  doctor,  a 
fully  qualified  medical  man,  was  very  wroth  with 
Peters  when  he  had  made  a  brief  examination  of  th^ 
patient. 

"  This  is  the  work  of  an  incompetent  quack,"  he  said 
angrily.  "  Whoever  the  man  may  be,  he  is  the  worst 
sort  of  idiot — the  sort  that  knows  a  little  of  what 
he  is  doing.  The  splints  and  bandaging  have  served 
their  purpose  only  too  well,  because  callous  is  forming 
already.  Unless  you  wish  to  have  one  leg  half  an  inch 
shorter  than  the  other  during  the  rest  of  your  life, 
Mr.  Power,  you  must  let  me  put  you  under  ether." 

"Why?"  came  the  calm-voiced  question. 


48  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

"  To  put  it  plainly,  your  leg  should  be  broken 
again,  and  properly  set." 

"  What  is  wrong  with  it  ?  " 

"  You  know  you  have  two  bones  in  that  part  of 
the  leg  which  is  below  the  knee,  the  tibia  and  the  fibula  ? 
Well,  they  were  broken — by  a  blow,  was  it?  No,  a 
fall — ^well,  they  practically  amount  to  the  same  thing, 
though  there  are  indications  that  this  injury  was 
caused  by  a  blow " 

"  He  fell  off  one  rock  onto  another,  doctor,"  put  in 
Benson. 

"  Ah,  yes  I  That  accounts  for  it.  As  I  was  saying, 
they  were  broken  slantwise,  and  now,  instead  of  being 
in  correct  apposition,  the  upper  parts  override  the 
lower  ones.     Do  you  follow.?  " 

"  Suppose  they  are  not  interfered  with,  will  they 
heal  all  right.?  "  said  Power. 

"  Y-yes,"  came  the  grudging  admission ;  "  but 
you'll  walk  with  a  limp." 

"  Bar  that,  the  left  leg  will  be  as  strong  as  the  right 
one.?  " 

"  Stronger,  in  that  particular-  place.  Nature  does 
some  first-rate  grafting,  when  the  stock  is  young  and 
exceptionally  healthy." 

Power  smiled,  almost  with  the  compelling  good- 
humor  of  other  days.  "  Then  I'll  limp  along,  Doctor," 
he  said.  "  I  have  things  to  do,  and  this  enforced  waste 
of  time  is  the  worst  feature  of  the  whole  business.  It 
is  very  good  of  you  to  come  out  here,  and  more  than 
kind  of  Mr.  Benson  to  accompany  you;  but  I  won't,  if 
I  can  avoid  it,  endure  another  ten  days  like  the  sample 
I  have  just  passed  through." 


Showing  How  Power  Acquired  a  Limp    49 

"  You'll  regret  your  decision  later.  There's  no 
means  of  adding  that  half  inch  afterward,  you 
know." 

"  I  quite  understand,  Doctor.    It's  a  limp  for  life." 

Dr.  Steam  felt  the  calf  muscles  and  tendons  again, 
and  pressed  the  region  of  the  fracture  with  skilled 
gentleness. 

"  It's  a  pity,"  he  growled.  "  You've  made  a  won- 
derful recovery.  If,  when  you  are  able  to  hobble  about, 
you  meet  this  rascal,  Peters,  and  shoot  him,  call  me 
as  a  witness  in  your  behalf.  It  would  be  a  clear  case 
of  justifiable  homicide!" 

So  that  is  how  John  Darien  Power  acquired  the 
somewhat  jerky  movement  which  characterizes  his  walk 
today;  though  the  cause  of  it  is  blurred  by  the  mists 
of  a  quarter  of  a  century.  The  red-whiskered  Peters 
was  shot  long  ago,  not  by  Power,  but  by  an  infuriated 
miner  from  whose  jaw  he  had  wrenched  two  sound 
teeth  before  discovering  the  decayed  stump  which  led 
to  this  display  of  misplaced  energy.  It  was  well  that 
such  impostors  should  be  swept  out  of  the  townlets 
of  Colorado,  even  if  the  means  adopted  for  their  sup- 
pression were  drastic.  They  wrought  untold  mischief 
by  their  pretensions,  and  brought  hundreds  of  men 
and  women  to  needless  death.  They  did  some  little 
good,  perhaps,  in  communities  where  physicians  and 
surgeons  were  few  and  far  between ;  but  their  rough 
and  partly  successful  carpentry  of  the  human  frame 
did  not  atone  for  the  misery  they  inflicted  in  cases  which 
demanded  a  delicately  exact  and  scientific  diagnosis. 
At  any  rate,  they  have  gone,  never  to  be  seen  again 
in  Colorado,  and  the  precise  manner  of  their  departure, 


50  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

whether  by  rum,  or  lead,  or  wise  and  far-reaching  laws, 
does  not  concern  this  narrative. 

What  does  concern  it  most  intimately  is  the  first 
use  Power  made  of  his  limping  steps;  for  upon  their 
direction  and  daily  increasing  number  depended  the 
whole  of  his  subsequent  history.  Life  still  held  for 
him  certain  rare  and  noteworthy  phases — developments 
which,  when  viewed  through  the  vista  of  many  years, 
seemed  as  inevitable  and  preordained  as  the  ordered 
sequence  of  a  Greek  tragedy.  Yet,  on  the  day  he 
hobbled  out  into  the  sunshine  again,  it  was  just  the  spin 
of  a  coin  whether  he  rode  to  the  Dolores  ranch  or 
took  train  for  Denver,  and  it  is  safe  to  say  that  had 
he  done  the  one  thing  instead  of  the  other  his  future 
career  must  have  been  drawn  into  an  entirely  different 
channel. 

At  least,  that  is  the  way  men  reason  when  they  re- 
view the  past,  and  single  out  some  trivial  act  which 
apparently  governed  their  destinies ;  whereat,  in  all 
probability,  the  gods  smile  pityingly,  for  the  lives  of 
some  men  cannot  be  the  outcome  of  idle  chance,  and 
John  Darien  Power's  life  was  assuredly  no  common- 
place one. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  SUDDEN  RISE  OF  PETER 
MacGONIGAL 

A  FOUE-wHEELED  buggj,  With  Springs,  the  only 
vehicle  of  its  kind  in  Bison,  had  been  hired  for  Pow- 
er's first  outing.  During  a  whole  week  toward  the 
close  of  July  he  had  stumped  about  on  a  crutch,  and, 
when  the  great  day  arrived  that  he  was  able  to  crawl 
slowly  to  and  fro  in  the  veranda  with  the  aid  of  a 
stick,  he  announced  to  the  watchful  MacGonigal  that 
henceforth  he  was  "  on  the  job  again." 

On  that  memorable  occasion,  while  Derry  was 
showing  off  the  new-found  accomplishment  of  walking, 
an  elderly  man,  white-haired  and  wiry,  but  of  small 
stature,  rode  by  on  a  mettlesome  mustang.  Power's 
face  grew  hard  when  he  met  the  rider's  stare  of  aston- 
ishment ;  but  the  expression  fled  instantly,  and  he  waved 
a  friendly  greeting,  which,  however,  received  the  curt- 
est  of  responses,  while  the  horse  unexpectedly  found 
his  head  free  for  a  canter. 

MacGonigal,  whose  big  eyes  lost  nothing  within 
range,  noted  the  bare  nod  which  acknowledged  Power's 
salute. 

"  Old  man  Willard  held  out  the  marble  mitt  that-a 
time,  Derry,"  said  he. 

Power  did  not  reply  for  a  moment.  When  he  an- 
swered, he  quoted  Dryden's  couplet: 

51 


52  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

Forgiveness  to  the  injured  doth  belong ; 

But  they  ne'er  pardon  who  have  done  the  wrong." 


"  Good  fer  you,  Derry ! "  exclaimed  the  storekeeper 
appreciatively.  "  I've  often  wondered  what  you  was 
connin'  to  yerself  up  thar,"  and  he  jerked  his  head 
in  the  direction  of  Power's  bedroom ;  "  but  I  never 
allowed  it  was  po'try." 

"  You  were  not  mistaken,  Mac.  I  was  hard  at  work 
on  dry  prose.  Those  lines  are  not  mine.  They  were 
written  before  Colorado  was  christened,  and  they  will 
be  true  until  men  attain  the  millennium." 

"Huh!" 

MacGonigal  took  refuge  in  a  noncommittal  grunt, 
because  he  fancied  that  the  millennium  was  the  name 
of  a  Chicago  vaudeville  house,  and,  somehow,  the  no- 
tion did  not  seem  to  fit  into  its  right  place  in  the 
conversation. 

"  For  all  that,"  mused  Power  aloud,  "  I'll  call  on 
Mr.  Francis  Willard,  tomorrow." 

So  this  resolution  explained  the  light  conveyance 
standing  outside  the  store  next  morning.  Power 
was  in  the  act  of  settling  himself  as  comfortably  as 
might  be  beside  the  driven,  when  One-thumb  Jake  gal- 
loped down  the  slope  leading  from  the  Gulch.  The 
cowboy  pulled  up  in  the  approved  style  of  his  tribe, 
swung  out  of  the  saddle,  and  banged  into  the  veranda 
a  decrepit  portmanteau,  which  he  had  been  carrying 
in  the  thumbless  hand. 

"  Room  an'  drink  fer  a  single  gent !  "  he  shouted. 
"  I'm  an  orfin,  I  am,  a  pore  weak  critter  slung  out  inter 
a  crool  world !  " 


The  Sudden  Rise  of  Peter  MacGonigal    53 

"  You're  never  leaving  the  Willard  outfit,  Jake  ?  " 
said  Power,  who  might  well  be  surprised,  since  the  man 
had  been  connected  with  the  Dolores  ranch  since  the 
first  lot  of  cattle  was  turned  loose  on  its  pastures. 

"  That's  about  the  size  of  it,"  said  the  other. 

"But  why?" 

"  The  old  man  says,  *  Git ! '  an'  I  got." 

"  No  reason?  " 

"  Wall,  if  you  squeeze  it  outer  me,  I'll  be  squoze. 
In  a  sort  of  a  way,  it  had  ter  do  with  you." 

"With  me?" 

"  Yes,  sir.  The  boss  says  ter  me  yestiddy,  *  Why  is 
Derry  Power  hangin'  roun'  Mac's  ?  '  Says  I,  *  He  bruk 
his  leg.'  *  Pity  he  didn't  break  his  neck,'  says  the  boss, 
an',  seein'  as  you'se  a  friend  of  mine,  I  didn't  agree 
with  any  sich  sentiments,  an'  tole  him  the  same.  He 
kind  o'  curled  up  then ;  but  this  mornin'  he  gev  me  the 
perlite  push, — said  as  he  was  quittin'  Bison  fer  a  spell, 
an'  the  ranch  would  be  shut  down.  Anyways,  Derry, 
I'm  mighty  glad  ter  see  you  hoppin'  aroun'.  Git  down 
outer  that  rig,  an'  hev  a  sociable  drink." 

Power  consulted  his  watch,  and  seemed  to  arrive  at 
some  decision  on  the  spur  of  the  moment. 

"  Can't  wait  now,"  he  said.  "  You'll  be  here  this 
evening?  " 

"  Sure." 

"  Then  I'll  be  around,  and  I  may  table  a  proposition 
that  will  please  you.  Jim,"  this  to  the  driver,  "  beat 
it  to  the  depot.  I  want  to  make  the  ten  o'clock  to 
Denver,  and  we  have  only  twenty  minutes." 

MacGonigal,  as  usual  a  silent  auditor,  gazed  after 
the  cloud  of  dust  raised  by  horse  and  buggy,  and  was 


54  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

minded,  perhaps,  to  say  something.  Whatever  may 
have  been  his  first  intent,  he  repressed  it. 

"  What's  yer  pizen,  Jake  ?  "  he  inquired,  and  the 
cowboy  named  it. 

Late  that  night  Power  returned.  He  was  so  tired 
that  he  had  practically  to  be  carried  to  bed;  but  he 
contrived  to  tell  the  storekeeper  that  Jake  should  re- 
main in  Bison  at  his  (Power's)  expense  until  certain 
business  conditions  had  developed.  Next  day  he  was 
too  exhausted  to  take  any  exercise;  but  sat  in  the 
veranda  after  breakfast,  smoking  and  chatting  with  the 
habitues,  whose  varied  surmises  he  shared,  when  a 
stranger  whizzed  through  the  township  in  the  buggy, 
vanished  in  the  direction  of  the  Gulch,  and  returned 
with  equal  celerity  of  movement  a  couple  of  hours 
subsequently. 

"  Looks  like  a  lawyer,"  said  some  wiseacre.  "  Them 
fellers  air  alius  on  a  hair-trigger  when  a  mortgage 
falls  in." 

"  Is  Willard's  time  up  ?  "  inquired  another  man. 

"  Thar  was  talk  about  it  afore  this  dry  spell  kem 
an'  cleared  him  out.    Of  course " 

The  speaker  stopped  suddenly.  He  was  on  the  point 
of  alluding  to  Nancy's  marriage,  when  he  remembered 
that  Power  was  present,  and,  in  such  circumstances, 
it  is  safe  to  assume  that  a  gathering  of  rough  west- 
ern miners  will  display  more  real  courtesy  and  consid- 
eration for  the  feelings  of  others  than  may  be  forth- 
coming in  far  more  pretentious  circles. 

"  No  need  to  trip  your  tongue  on  my  account," 
laughed  Power,  reaching  lazily  for  a  glass  of  milk  and 
seltzer.    "  You  were  going  to  say,  I  suppose,  that  when 


The  Sudden  Rise  of  Peter  MacGonigal    55 

Mr.  Willard's  daughter  married  a  rich  man  the  mort- 
gage difficulty  would  disappear." 

"  Somethin'  like  that,  Derry,"  was  the  answer. 

"  Did  you  ever  hear  the  amount  of  the  mortgage?  " 

"  Five  thousand,  I  was  told." 

Power  laughed  again.  "  Five  thousand !  "  he  cried. 
"  Surely  Nancy  Willard  cost  more  than  that !  Why, 
Marten  gave  me  that  amount  as  a  rake-off  on  one  job 
I  put  through  for  him  this  spring." 

The  words  were  bitter  as  gall,  though  uttered  in  a 
tone  of  quiet  banter.  None  spoke  in  reply.  Each  man 
there  had  seen  Power  and  the  girl  scampering  to- 
gether through  Bison  on  their  ponies  so  often  that  the 
two  were  marked  down  by  good-natured  gossip  as 
"  made  for  each  other."  Sympathy  now  would  be  use- 
less and  misplaced;  so  there  was  silence  for  awhile, 
until  a  safer  and  collectively  interesting  topic  was 
broached  by  MacGonigal. 

"  Kin  anybody  here  tell  me  what's  going  on  at  the 
mill?  "  he  asked  suddenly. 

The  "  mill,"  as  the  agency  through  which  many  thou- 
sands of  tons  of  low-grade  telluride  ore  were  trans- 
muted weekly  into  a  certain  number  of  ounces  of  gold 
and  silver,  was  the  breath  of  life  to  Bison.  If  it  stopped, 
the  greater  part  of  the  little  town's  inhabitants  was 
aware  instantly  of  bare  cupboards  and  empty  pock- 
ets. Work  might  cease  at  the  mines  for  varying  periods 
without  causing  vital  harm  to  the  community;  but  the 
metal  pulses  of  the  mill  must  beat  with  regularity,  or 
Bison  suffered  from  a  severe  form  of  heart  disease. 
Consequently,  there  was  no  rush  to  volunteer  informa- 
tion; though  some  of  those  present  had  had  their  sus- 


56  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

picions  that  all  was  not  as  it  should  be  with  the  giant 
whose  clamant  voice  rang  ever  in  their  ears. 

"  Some  books  and  things  was  carted  from  the  office 
to  Denver  a-Wednesday,"  said  the  know-all  who  had 
spoken  about  the  mortgage. 

"Why?" 

The  storekeeper's  tone  was  ominous,  and  the  other 
man  grinned  uneasily. 

"  Guess  it's  what  they  call  an  audit,"  he  said. 

"  Thar's  been  two  audits  a  year  fer  ten  years  at 
Bison,  an'  the  books  hev  never  gone  ter  Denver  afore." 

"  Page  has  been  nosin'  around,  too,  like  as  if  he  was 
takin'  stock,"  put  in  a  feeder,  whose  task  it  was  to 
guide  and  shovel  ore  into  the  rolls. 

"  Page  oughter  know  what's  in  the  mill  by  this  time," 
said  MacGonigal,  and  indeed,  the  personage  under  dis- 
cussion being  the  manager,  the  statement  was  almost 
excessively  accurate. 

"  Thar  was  talk  in  the  papers  awhile  sence  about 
some  new  process  fer  treatin'  low-grade  ores,"  com- 
mented the  feeder,  apropos  of  nothing  in  particular. 
Then  he  seemed  to  wake  into  cheerful  activity.  "  But 
what's  the  use  o'  meetin'  trouble  halfways  ?  "  he  cried. 
"  Goldarn  it !  people  said  the  mines  was  peterin'  out 
more'n  a  year  ago,  an'  we're  workin'  full  spell  this 
yer  week.  .  .  .  Who's  fer  a  fizz.?  I  go  on  at  six,  an' 
I  hev  to  eat  a  line  fust." 

That  evening,  before  the  store  filled  with  the  day 
men,  and  Power  alone  was  listening,  MacGonigal  was 
more  outspoken. 

"  I've  a  notion  that  the  mill  is  goin'  ter  close  down, 
Derry,"  he  said  glumly. 


The  Sudden  Rise  of  Peter  MacGonigal    57 

"  Probably,  for  a  time,"  said  Power. 

Such  prompt  agreement  was  unexpected;  but  Mac- 
Gonigal passed  it  without  comment. 

"  Nit — fer  good.  They  lost  the  main  vein  a  year 
last  Christmas,  an'  the  treatin'  of  ounce  ore  has 
been  a  bluff  whiles  they  s'arched  high  an'  low  be- 
yond the  fault.  No,  Derry,  Bison  is  busted.  Me 
for  Denver  tomorrow,  an'  any  fellar  kin  hev  this 
store  at  a  vallyation,  wid  a  good  rake-off,  too — 
dang  it ! " 

Power  was  smoking  placidly,  and  the  gloomy 
prophecy  of  his  friend  did  not  appear  to  disturb  him. 
He  even  affected  to  ignore  the  sigh  with  which  Mac- 
Gonigal turned  away  after  gazing  at  him  with  an  ex- 
pression akin  to  dismay;  for  the  stout  man  had  the 
constitutional  dislike  of  his  kind  to  change,  and  the 
store  had  yielded  a  steady  income  since  the  inception 
of  Bison. 

"  Say,  Mac,"  said  Power  after  a  long  pause,  "  if 
you  were  to  dig  deep  down  into  your  pants,  how  much 
could  you  ante  up  ?  " 

"  Eight  thousand  dollars,  ef  I  kep'  a  grubstake," 
came  the  instant  response. 

"  And  what  is  the  mill  worth?  " 

"  It  cost  the  best  part  of  a  hundred  an'  fifty  thou- 
sand." 

"  I  asked  you  what  it  is  worth." 

"  What  it'll  fetch." 

"Can  you  figure  it  out?" 

"  There's  on'y  the  movable  plant.  A  lot  of  money 
is  sunk  in  cyanide  vats,  an'  rails,  an'  buildin's.  Guess, 
when  you  come  ter  whittle  it  down  ter  rolls  an'  engines, 


58  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

less  the  cost  of  takin'  'em  ter  pieces  an'  fixin'  'em  any- 
whar,  you'd  git  'em  fer  twenty  thousand." 

"  And  plenty,  too,  for  a  mill  erected  ten  years  ago 
to  deal  with  high-grade  ore.  You  see,  Mac,  the  sci- 
entific treatment  of  rich  ores  has  developed  so  rapidly 
of  late  that  the  Bison  mill  is  practically  a  back  num- 
ber; while  we  know  that  it  cannot  compete  with  the 
low-grade  extractions  now  practised  in  Cripple  Creek 
and  at  Leadville.  No,  you  must  cut  down  your  esti- 
mate. When  you  buy  that  mill,  Mac,  you  shouldn't 
spring  a  cent  beyond  fifteen  thousand,  and  begin  by 
offering  ten.  At  best,  it  would  only  form  a  nucleus  for 
real  work." 

"  Me — ^buy — the — mill !  "  MacGonigal  permitted 
himself  to  be  astounded  to  the  point  of  stupefaction. 

"  Yes,  that  is  what  will  happen.  But  not  a  word 
of  this  to  anyone.  Start  in  and  sell  the  store,  by  all 
means ;  provided  you  fix  its  value  on  the  basis  of  live 
business,  likely  to  improve." 

"  Derry,  air  you  wool-gatherin',  or  what .?  " 

"  Unless  I  am  greatly  mistaken,  Mac,  you  and  I  will 
gather  as  much  wool  during  the  next  twelve  months 
as  we  are  likely  to  need  for  the  remainder  of  our  lives. 
I  may  be  wrong,  of  course,  but  you  will  be  perfectly 
safe.  You  will  grab  the  mill  at  its  breaking-up  price, 
and  you  should  sell  the  store  in  any  event.  All  I  ask 
is  that  you  act  strictly  according  to  my  instructions. 
It  is  hardly  necessary  to  repeat  that  you  must  keep 
the  proposition  to  yourself." 

These  two  knew  each  other  thoroughly ;  though  Mac- 
Gonigal was  well  aware  that  certain  unfathomable  char- 
acteristics had  developed  of  late  in  the  once  carefree 


The  Sudden  Rise  of  Peter  MacGonigal    59 

and  even-minded  youngster  for  whom  he  felt  an  al- 
most parental  tenderness.  He  made  no  reply.  He 
asked  no  question.  He  knew  that  when  the  time  came 
Power  would  speak,  but  not  until  the  scheme  he  had 
in  mind,  whatever  it  might  be,  was  ripe  for  action. 
Indeed,  ever  since  the  accident.  Power  had  displayed 
some  of  the  attributes  which  caused  men  to  hate  and 
fear  Marten.  He,  whose  laugh  had  been  the  merriest 
and  human  sympathies  the  most  marked  among  all  the 
men  who  had  passed  in  review  before  the  storekeeper's 
bulbous  eyes,  was  now  apt  to  lapse  into  a  cold  cynicism, 
an  aloofness  of  interest,  a  smiling  contempt  for  the 
opinions  and  wishes  of  his  fellows,  which  had  puzzled 
and  saddened  his  one  stanch  friend.  But  MacGonigal's 
confidence  in  him  had  not  diminished.  Rather  was 
he  aware  of  a  broadening  and  strengthening  of 
qualities  already  remarkable,  and  he  hugged  the 
belief  that,  as  the  image  of  Nancy  Willard  faded 
into  impenetrable  mists.  Power  would  come  back 
to  his  erstwhile  sane  and  wholesome  outlook  on 
life. 

So  the  stout  man  did  not  even  trouble  to  put  into 
words  the  assurance  that  he  might  be  trusted  to  hold 
his  tongue  as  to  possible  occurrences  at  Bison.  After 
a  prolonged  stare  at  a  glorious  sunset  which  silhou- 
etted the  Rocky  Mountains  in  a  rich  tint  of  ultramarine 
against  a  sky  of  crimson  and  gold,  he  executed  that 
unaided  transit  of  a  cigar  across  his  mouth  for  which 
he  was  noted,  and  when  he  spoke  it  was  only  to  assure 
the  section  of  Colorado  visible  through  the  door  that 
he  was  dog-goned. 

Thereafter  events  moved  with  the  swiftness  which 


60  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

at  times  seems  to  possess  the  most  out-of-the-way  places 
in  America  like  a  fever. 

The  stranger  whose  guise  suggested  a  lawyer  to  the 
quidnuncs  of  Bison  was  not  seen  again  in  the  town- 
ship during  the  ensuing  fortnight ;  but  affrighting  ru- 
mor, which  soon  became  deadly  fact,  told  of  the  mill 
closing  down  for  lack  of  paying  ore.  Mr.  Page,  Mar- 
ten's representative,  promised  the  sorrowing  people  that 
work  would  be  found  for  everyone  elsewhere.  Though 
this  guarantee  alleviated  the  crushing  effect  of  the 
blow,  there  was  much  grieving  over  the  loss  of  more 
or  less  comfortable  homes  which  had  been  won  from 
the  wilderness  by  years  of  patient  effort.  Men  and 
women,  even  in  strenuous  America,  twine  their  heart- 
strings around  stocks  and  stones,  and  the  threatened 
upheaval  was  grievous  to  them.  It  meant  the  breaking 
up  of  families  and  friendships,  a  transference  to  new 
districts  and  a  strange  environment,  a  scattering  of 
the  household  gods  which  might  never  reassemble  in 
the  old  and  familiar  order.  Amid  the  general  unrest 
none  gave  much  heed  to  the  news  that  the  Dolores  ranch 
had  found  a  new  owner — who,  by  the  way,  according 
to  the  joyous  version  of  the  foreman.  One-thumb  Jake, 
meant  to  raise  horses  instead  of  cattle — but  all  Bison 
felt  its  hair  lifting  in  amazement  when  the  Rocky  Mou/n- 
tain  News  announced  that  Mr.  Hugh  Marten  had  sold 
the  mill  to  Mr.  Peter  MacGonigal  for  a  sum  unnamed, 
but  variously  estimated  between  the  ridiculous  (though 
actual)  price  of  twelve  thousand  dollars  (toward  which 
one-half  was  contributed  by  a  mortgage  on  mill  and 
ranch)  and  five  times  the  amount  as  representing  its 
cheap  acquisition  as  a  going  concern. 


The  Sudden  Rise  of  Peter  MacGonigal    61 

Every  practical  miner  knew  that  the  ore  bodies  in 
the  mines  were  exhausted,  and  many  and  quaint  were 
the  opinions  privately  uttered  as  to  Mac's  sanity. 
Even  the  astute  Page — once  the  deeds  were  signed 
and  the  money  paid — expressed  the  hope  that  the  store- 
keeper would  not  rue  his  bargain. 

"  Of  course,"  he  said  diplomatically,  "  you  may  find 
purchasers  for  some  of  the  plant ;  but  milling  machinery 
is  a  special  thing,  and  you  will  be  lucky  if  you  sell 
the  stuff  soon.  I  suppose  you  have  a  purpose  in  view 
for  the  buildings  ?  " 

"  Guess  there's  some  stuff  ter  be  found  in  the  tail- 
in's,  an'  a  few  pockets  of  ore  in  the  mines,"  said 
MacGonigal. 

The  manager  shook  his  head.  "  You  can  take  it 
from  me  that  when  Marten  sucks  an  orange  there  isn't 
much  juice  left  for  the  next  fellow,"  he  said.  "  You 
bought  the  place  with  your  eyes  open,  and  I  still  think 
you  may  get  your  money  back,  with  a  small  profit; 
but  I  advise  you  strongly  not  to  lose  a  day  in  adver- 
tising the  rolls  and  accessories,  while  the  man  who  has 
taken  over  the  Dolores  ranch  may  buy  the  buildings. 
They  will  come  in  useful  as  bams." 

"  I'll  chew  on  that  proposition,"  said  MacGonigal. 

Page  thought  him  slightly  cracked ;  but  shook  hands 
affably,  and  caught  the  next  train  for  Denver.  He 
was  completely  flabbergasted  when  an  assistant  whom 
he  had  deputed  to  superintend  the  removal  of  Bison's 
citizens  to  new  spheres  of  labor  informed  him  that 
Messrs.  Power  and  MacGonigal  were  signing  on  the 
whole  of  the  miners  and  mill-hands  at  established  rates 
of  pay,  and  that  operations  were  to  be  started  forth- 


62  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

with  on  a  new  strike  in  the  Gulch.  When  he  had  re- 
covered somewhat  from  the  shock  of  this  announcement 
he  strolled  into  the  government  record  offices,  and  ex- 
amined the  registry  of  recent  mining  claims.  There 
he  found  that  a  location  certificate  had  been  obtained 
by  John  Darien  Power  for  1,500  feet  by  300  feet  on 
a  well  defined  crevice,  at  least  10  feet  deep,  situated 
in  the  Gulch,  Dolores  Ranch,  Bison,  in  the  county  of 
Bison  and  state  of  Colorado.  Other  certificates  had 
been  issued  to  cover  more  than  a  mile  of  the  main 
contact,  and,  to  clench  the  mining  right,  John  Darien 
Power  figured  as  the  legal  owner  of  the  land.  In  a 
word,  he  was  "  a  valid  discoverer  "  on  his  own  property. 

Page  was  a  shrewd  man,  and  he  did  not  commit  the 
error  of  underestimating  the  ability  of  the  rival  who 
had  engineered  this  subtle  stroke. 

"  I'm  buncoed  this  time,  and  no  mistake,"  he  mut- 
tered, and  hurried  back  to  his  office,  palHd  with  wrath 
and  foreboding. 

There  he  met  Benson,  and  told  him  what  had  hap- 
pened. The  private  secretary,  rather  staggered  at  first, 
regained  his  complacency  when  he  had  glanced  through 
some  letters  and  cablegrams  received  from  their  com- 
mon chief. 

"  The  boss  has  approved  of  every  move  in  the  game," 
he  said,  with  a  half-hearted  laugh.  "  You  see,  here  he 
authorizes  us  to  take  even  less  than  MacGonigal  paid 
for  the  mill,  and,  when  Willard  repaid  the  loan,  he 
refused  to  accept  it,  but  cabled  that  the  money  was 
a  gift  from  Mrs.  Marten.  So  I  don't  think  he  can 
hold  us  responsible." 

"  It's  not  the  responsibility  I'm  kicking  at,  but  the 


The  Sudden  Rise  of  Peter  MacGonigal    63 

smooth  way  in  which  I  was  bested,"  growled  Page. 
"  Now,  who'd  have  thought  Power  had  it  in  him?  " 

"  Well,  I  would,  for  one,"  said  Benson. 

"  Why,  you  hardly  knew  him." 

"  I  met  him  under  exceptional  conditions," 

"  But  how  the  deuce  did  he  manage  to  locate  that 
lost  vein — I  suppose  that  is  what  he  has  found?  " 

"  Perhaps  it  was  a  gift  from  the  gods." 

"  I  do  wish  you'd  talk  sense,"  said  the  irritated 
manager. 

"  What  you  would  call  sense  might  not  pass  for 
wisdom  on  Olympus,"  smiled  Benson. 

"  Will  you  kindly  tell  me  what  you  are  driving  at?  " 

"  I  can't.  But  look  here.  Page — which  of  us  is  going 
to  write  this  story  to  the  boss  ?  " 

"  You  are,  and  don't  forget  to  put  in  those  re- 
marks of  yours.     They'll  help  some." 

"  Shouldn't  I  cable?  Marten  may  want  to  know  of 
this  new  move." 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  that  is  the  right  thing  to  do.  When 
you  have  coded  the  message,  I'll  go  through  it  with  you. 
There  must  be  no  mistake  this  time." 

Thus,  within  a  few  hours,  Hugh  Marten,  established 
at  the  Meurice  in  Paris,  received  news  which  certainly 
took  him  aback ;  for  he  was  a  man  who  seldom  brooked 
a  successful  interloper.  At  first  he  was  annoyed,  and 
had  it  in  mind  to  discharge  Page  by  cablegram.  There 
would  be  no  difficulty  in  giving  "  Messrs.  Power  and 
MacGonigal  "  a  good  deal  of  legal  trouble.  To  begin 
with,  the  lawyers  would  allege  collusion  against  Page, 
and  an  investigation  into  the  purchase  of  the  ranch 
might  reveal  loopholes  for  legal  stilettos.     Indeed,  his 


'64  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

alert  brain  was  canvassing  all  manner  of  chicanery  pos- 
sible through  statutes  made  and  enacted  when  his  wife 
came  in,  flushed  and  breathless. 

-"  Hugh,"  she  cried,  "  I've  had  heaps  of  fun  this  aft- 
ernoon !  Madame  de  Neuville  brought  me  to  the  Duch- 
esse  de  Brasnes'  place  in  that  quaint  old  Faubourg  St. 
Germain,  and  the  Duchesse  took  such  a  fancy  to  me  that 
we  are  invited  for  a  week-end  shoot  at  her  castle,  one 
of  the  real  chateaux  on  the  Loire.  You'll  come,  of 
course?  " 

"  Why,  yes,  Nancy." 

"  You  say  yes  as  though  I  had  asked  you  to  go 
to  the  dentist." 

"  I'm  a  trifle  worried,  and  that's  the  fact." 

"What  is  it?     Can  I  help?" 

Marten  hesitated;  though  only  for  an  instant.  His 
wife  was  more  adorable  than  ever  since  she  had  dis- 
covered what  wonders  an  illimitable  purse  could  achieve 
in  the  boutiques  of  the  Rue  de  la  Paix;  but  there  was 
ever  at  the  back  of  his  mind  a  suspicion  that  she  looked 
on  her  past  life  as  a  thing  that  was  dead,  and  was 
schooling  herself  to  an  artificial  gaiety  in  these  glit- 
tering surroundings  of  rank  and  fashion. 

"  The  truth  is  that  I  am  vexed  at  something  which 
has  happened  in  Colorado — at  Bison,"  he  said. 

"  You  have  had  no  ill  news  of  Dad  ?  "  she  cried,  in 
quick  alarm. 

"  No,  he's  all  right.  I  told  you  he  had  sold  the  ranch. 
Well,  the  purchaser  is  that  young  engineer,  Derry 
Power." 

He  watched  her  closely ;  but  trust  any  woman  to  mis- 
lead a  man  when  she  knows  that  her  slightest  change 


The  Sudden  Rise  of  Peter  MacGonigal    65 

of  expression  will  be  marked  and  understood.  Mrs. 
Marten's  eyes  opened  wide,  and  she  had  no  difficulty  in 
feigning  honest  surprise. 

"  Derry  Power !  "  she  almost  gasped.  "  What  in 
the  world  does  he  want  with  the  ranch?  " 

"  It  seems  that  he  contrived  to  find  the  main  vein 
which  we  lost  in  the  Esperanza  mine." 

"  Oh,  is  that  it?  "  She  was  indifferent,  almost  bored. 
Her  mind  was  in  the  valley  of  the  Loire. 

"  Yes.  That  idiot  Page  was  kept  in  the  dark  very 
neatly;  so  he  sold  the  mill  at  a  scrap  price — ^by  my 
instructions,  I  admit — and  now  Power  and  MacGonigal 
have  everything  in  their  own  hands." 

Nancy's  eyebrows  arched,  and  she  laughed  gleefully. 
"  Just  fancy  Mac  blossoming  into  a  mining  magnate !  " 
she  cried.  "  But  why  should  this  affair  worry  you, 
Hugh?  " 

His  hard  features  softened  into  a  smile — in  this 
instance,  a  real  smile — for  he  was  intensely  proud  of 
his  pretty  wife. 

"  I  hate  to  feel  that  I  have  got  the  worst  of  a  deal," 
he  admitted.  "  But  that's  all  right,  Nancy.  We  won't 
quarrel  with  old  friends  at  Bison.  Run  away  and  write 
to  your  duchess  while  I  concoct  a  cable." 

And  so  it  came  to  pass  that  Page,  instead  of  re- 
ceiving a  curt  dismissal,  was  told  to  place  no  obstacles 
in  the  way  of  the  new  venture,  but  rather  to  facilitate 
it  by  fixing  a  reasonable  price  on  land  and  houses  not 
covered  by  the  sale  of  the  mill,  should  they  be  needed 
by  Marten's  successors  at  Bison.  In  fact,  by  an  un- 
exampled display  of  good  will  on  the  part  of  his  em- 
ployer, he  was  bade  to  offer  these  properties  to  Power 


66  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

at  a  valuation.  That  somewhat  simple  though  gen- 
erous proposal  had  a  highly  important  sequel  when 
Francis  Willard,  rendered  furious  by  learning  how  he 
had  been  ousted  from  the  ranch,  sought  legal  aid  to 
begin  a  suit  against  Power.  Even  his  own  lawyer  coun- 
seled abandonment  of  the  law  when  the  facts  were  in- 
quired into.  Power's  title  was  indisputable,  and  Mar- 
ten's action  in  selling  the  mill,  no  less  than  his  readi- 
ness to  make  over  other  portions  of  the  real  estate 
if  desired,  showed  that  the  whole  undertaking  had  been 
carried  through  in  an  open  and  businesslike  way. 

Willard  was  convinced  against  his  will;  but,  being 
a  narrow-minded  and  selfish  man,  who  had  not  scrupled 
to  imperil  his  daughter's  happiness  when  a  wealthy 
suitor  promised  to  extricate  him  from  financial  trou- 
bles, the  passive  dislike  he  harbored  against  Power  now 
became  an  active  and  vindictive  hatred.  He  believed, 
perhaps  he  had  honestly  convinced  himself  of  this,  that 
the  young  engineer  had  secured  the  estate  by  a  trick. 
It  was  not  true,  of  course,  because  he  had  jumped  at 
the  chance  of  a  sale  when  approached  by  the  Denver 
lawyer  acting  for  Power.  But  a  soured  and  rancorous 
nature  could  not  wholly  stifle  the  prickings  of  remorse. 
He  knew  that  he  had  forced  his  daughter  into  a  love- 
less marriage;  he  could  not  forget  the  girl's  wan  de- 
spair when  no  answer  came  from  Sacramento  to  her 
letters ;  he  had  experienced  all  the  misery  of  a  craven- 
hearted  thief  when  he  stole  the  letters  Power  sent  to 
Bison  until  Marten  assured  him  that  equally  efi^ective 
measures  at  the  other  end  had  suppressed  Nancy's 
correspondence  also.  Because  these  things  were  unfor- 
givable he  could  not  forgive  the  man  against  whom 


The  Sudden  Rise  of  Peter  MacGonigal    67 

they  were  planned.  Penury  and  failing  health  had 
driven  him  to  adopt  the  only  sure  means  by  which  he 
could  break  off  the  tacit  engagement  which  opposed 
a  barrier  to  his  scheming;  but  the  knowledge  that  he 
had  sinned  was  an  ever-present  torture.  A  certain  or- 
der of  mind,  crabbed,  ungenerous,  self-seeking,  may 
still  be  plagued  by  a  lively  conscience,  and  Willard's 
enmity  against  Power  could  be  measured  only  by  his 
own  fiercely  repressed  sufferings. 

"  Curse  the  fellow ! "  he  said  bitterly,  when  the  law- 
yer told  him  that  a  suit  for  recovery  of  the  ranch 
must  be  dismissed  ignominiously.  "  Curse  him !  Why 
did  he  cross  my  path?  I  am  an  old  man,  and  I  do 
not  wish  to  distress  my  daughter,  or  I  would  go  now 
to  Bison  and  shoot  him  at  sight ! " 

So  John  Darien  Power  had  made  at  least  one  de- 
termined enemy,  and  it  may  be  taken  for  granted  that, 
had  he  visited  the  Dolores  ranch  instead  of  Denver  on 
that  first  day  in  the  open  air  after  his  accident,  no 
money  he  could  command  would  have  made  him  undis- 
puted lord  of  the  land  and  all  it  contained. 

But  evil  thinking  is  a  weed  that  thrives  in  the  most 
unlikely  soil.  To  all  appearance,  with  Nancy  wed  and 
the  foundations  of  a  fortune  securely  laid,  Willard's 
animosity  could  achieve  small  harm  to  Power.  Yet  it 
remained  vigorous  throughout  the  years,  and  its  roots 
spread  far,  so  that  when  the  opportunity  came  they 
entangled  Power's  feet,  and  he  fell,  and  was  nearly 
choked  to  death  by  them. 


CHAPTER  V 
WHEREIN  POWER  TRAVELS  EAST 

One  summer's  day  at  high  noon  a  man  rode  into 
Bison  from  the  direction  of  the  railway,  and,  judging 
by  the  critical  yet  interested  glances  he  cast  right  and 
left  while  his  drowsy  mustang  plodded  through  the  dust, 
he  seemed  to  be  appraising  recent  developments  keenly. 
As  the  horseman  was  Francis  Willard,  and  as  this  was 
the  first  time  he  had  visited  Bison  since  leaving  the 
ranch,  there  were  many  novelties  to  repay  his  scru- 
tiny. The  number  of  houses  had  been  nearly  doubled, 
the  store  had  swollen  proportionately,  not  to  men- 
tion the  Bison  Hotel,  which  had  sprung  into  being 
on  the  site  of  the  ramshackle  lean-to  where  once  Mac- 
GonigaPs  patrons  had  stabled  their  "  plugs,"  and  a 
roomy  omnibus  rumbled  to  and  fro  in  the  main  street 
before  and  after  the  departure  of  every  train  from  the 
depot. 

These  unerring  signs  of  prosperity  spoke  volumes; 
but  it  was  only  when  the  rider  drew  rein  near  the 
mouth  of  the  Gulch  that  he  was  able  to  note  the  full 
measure  of  Bison's  progress.  Deep  in  a  hollow  to  the 
left  were  two  mills  instead  of  one,  and  the  noise  of  ore- 
crunching  rolls  was  quadrupled  in  volume.  Two  long 
rows  of  recently  erected  cyanide  vats  betokened  the  in- 
creased output  of  the  mine,  and,  even  while  Willard  sat 
there,  gazing  moodily  at  a  scene  almost  strange  to  his 


Wherein  Power  Travels  East  69 

vision,  an  engine  snorted  by,  seemingly  hauling  a  dozen 
loaded  trucks,  but  in  reality  exerting  its  panting  energy 
to  restrain  the  heavily  freighted  cars  from  taking  head- 
long charge  of  the  downward  passage.  Another  en- 
gine, heading  a  similar  string  of  empty  wagons,  was 
evidently  on  the  point  of  making  the  ascent;  so  Wil- 
lard  jogged  an  unwilling  pony  into  movement  again, 
and  entered  the  Gulch. 

Beyond  the  two  sets  of  rails,  nothing  new  caught  his 
eye  here  until  he  had  rounded  the  curve  leading  to  the 
watershed.  Then  he  came  in  sight  of  the  original  en- 
trance to  the  mine — a  shaft  was  being  sunk  nearly 
three-quarters  of  a  mile  away,  but  he  was  not  aware 
of  that  at  the  moment — and  noticed  that  a  stout  man, 
jauntily  arrayed  in  a  white  canvas  suit  and  brown  boots, 
who  had  a  cigar  tucked  into  a  corner  of  his  mouth, 
had  strolled  out  of  a  pretentious-looking  office  build- 
ing, and  was  obviously  surprised  by  the  appearance  of 
a  mounted  man  in  that  place  at  that  moment. 

MacGonigal  had,  in  fact,  recognized  Willard  the  in- 
stant he  swung  into  view,  because  none  of  the  ranchers 
rode  that  way  nowadays,  a  more  circuitous  but  safer 
trail  having  been  cut  to  avoid  the  rails. 

Mac  had  certainly  remarked  that  he  was  dog-goned 
when  he  set  eyes  on  Willard,  and  a  similar  sentiment 
was  expressed  more  emphatically  by  the  visitor;  for 
there  was  no  love  lost  between  those  two,  and,  in  con- 
sequence, their  greetings  were  unusually  gracious. 

"Wall,  Mr.  Willard,  ef  this  don't  beat  cock- 
fightin' ! "  cried  MacGonigal,  when  the  other  halted 
at  the  foot  of  an  inclined  way  leading  to  the  level 
space  from  which  rock  had  been  blasted  to  provide  room 


70  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

for  the  various  structures  that  cluster  near  the  outlet 
of  a  busy  mine.  "  Now,  who'd  ha  thought  of  seein'  you 
hereabouts  terday?  " 

"  Or  any  other  day,  Mr.  MacGonigal,"  said  Willard, 
forcing  an  agreeable  smile.  The  prefix  to  MacGoni- 
gal's  name  was  a  concession  to  all  that  had  gone  before 
during  a  short  half-hour's  ride.  The  ex-storekeeper 
was  now  the  nominal  head  of  a  gold-producing  industry 
which  ranked  high  in  the  state,  and  the  bitterness  well- 
ing up  in  Willard's  mind  had  been  quelled  momentarily 
by  sheer  astonishment. 

"  That's  as  may  be,"  returned  Mac  affably,  rolling 
the  cigar  across  his  mouth.  "  But,  seein'  as  you  air 
on  this  section  of  the  map,  guess  you'd  better  bring  that 
boss  o'  yourn  into  the  plaza.  A  bunch  of  cars  is  due 
here  any  minute." 

Willard  jogged  nearer,  and  dismounted,  and  a  youth 
summoned  by  MacGonigal  took  charge  of  the  mustang. 

"  Hev'  yer  come  ter  see  Power?  "  inquired  the  stout 
one,  with  just  the  right  amount  of  friendly  curiosity. 

"  Well,  no,  not  exactly.  I  shall  be  glad  to  meet  him, 
of  course.    Is  he  somewhere  around?  " 

"  No.     He  went  East  two  days  sence." 

Now,  the  movements  of  local  financial  magnates  are 
duly  chronicled  in  the  Colorado  press,  and  MacGonigal 
was  sure  that  Willard  had  not  only  read  the  announce- 
ment of  Power's  departure,  but  had  timed  this  visit  ac- 
cordingly. Still,  that  was  no  affair  of  his.  Willard 
was  here,  and  might  stay  a  month  if  he  liked,  because 
he  would  have  to  pay  for  bed  and  board  in  the  Bison 
Hotel,  which  MacGonigal  owned. 

"  Ah,  that's  too  bad,"  said  Willard,  feigning  an  in- 


Wherein  Power  Travels  East  71 

difference  he  was  far  from  feeling.  "  Still,  I  have  no 
real  business  on  hand.  I  happened  to  be  at  a  loose 
end  in  Denver,  and  didn't  seem  to  know  anybody  in 
the  Brown  Palace  Hotel;  so  I  came  out  here,  to  take 
a  peep  at  the  old  shanty,  so  to  speak." 

"  You'll  hev'  located  an  alteration  or  two  already  ?  " 
chuckled  the  other. 

"  Every  yard  of  the  way  was  a  surprise." 

"  Guess  that's  so ;  but  what  you've  seen  is  small  per- 
taters  with  the  circus  on  the  other  side  of  the  hill." 

"  On  the  ranch !  Things  can't  have  changed  so 
greatly  there  ?  " 

"  You  come  this-a  way,  an'  survey  the  park." 

MacGonigal  led  the  visitor  through  a  check  office, 
and  along  a  corridor.  Throwing  open  a  door,  he  ush- 
ered him  into  a  well  furnished  room,  with  two  French 
windows  opening  on  to  a  spacious  veranda. 

"  This  yer  is  Berry's  den,"  he  said.  "  He  likes  ter 
look  at  the  grass  growin';  but  my  crib  is  at  the  other 
side,  whar  I  kin  keep  tab  on  the  stuff  that  makes  most 
other  things  grow  as  well.  Not  that  it  ain't  dead  easy 
ter  know  why  Derry  likes  this  end  of  the  outfit — an' 
nobody  livin'  '11  understand  that  better'n  yerself,  Mr. 
Willard,  when  you've  looked  the  proposition  over  fer 
ten  seconds  by  the  clock." 

Willard  had  never  found  MacGonigal  so  loquacious 
in  former  days;  but  he  was  too  preoccupied  by  the 
tokens  of  success  that  met  his  furtive  gaze  in  every 
direction  to  give  much  heed  to  any  marked  change 
in  his  guide's  manner.  Moreover,  he  had  scarcely  set 
foot  in  the  veranda  before  he  yielded  to  a  feeling  which, 
at  first,  was  one  of  undiluted  amazement.    The  annual 


72  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

rainfall  had  been  normal  since  he  abandoned  ranching; 
but  Colorado  in  June  is  not  exactly  the  home  of  lush 
meadows  during  the  best  of  years,  and  he  was  staring 
now  at  a  fertile  panorama  of  green  pastures,  and  thriv- 
ing orchards,  while  the  ranch  itself  was  set  in  the  midst 
of  smooth  lawns  embosomed  in  a  wealth  of  shrubs  and 
ornamental  trees.  Greatest  miracle  of  all,  a  tiny  stream 
of  pellucid  water  was  flowing  down  the  Gulch. 

"  I  don't  quite  grasp  this,"  he  muttered  thickly,  while 
his  eyes  roved  almost  wildly  from  the  dancing  rivulet 
to  the  fair  savannah  which  it  had  made  possible. 

"  A  bit  of  a  wonder,  ain't  it?  "  gurgled  MacGonigal 
placidly.  "  Jest  another  piece  of  luck,  that's  what  it 
air.  Derry  can't  go  wrong,  I  keep  tellin'  him.  I  had 
a  notion  the  hull  blamed  show  was  busted  when  we 
struck  a  spring  at  the  end  o'  the  fust  dip  of  two  hun- 
dred feet;  but  Derry  jest  laughed  In  his  quiet  way,  an' 
said,  *  There  oughter  be  tears  round  about  any  place 
called  Grief,  an'  now  we  have  Dolores  weepin'.  We've 
tapped  a  perennial  spring,  Mac,  an'  it's  the  very  thing 
I  wanted  ter  make  the  ranch  a  fair  copy  of  Paradise.' 
There  you  hev'  it — Derry's  luck — a  pipe  line  laid  on 
by  Nature — an'  him  raisin'  apples,  Mr.  Willard,  raisin' 
pippins  as  big  as  your  fist,  on  land  whar  you  couldn't 
raise  a  bundle  of  alfalfa !  " 

Willard  had  to  find  something  to  say,  or  he  would 
have  choked  with  spleen.  "  Evidently  the  inrush  of 
water  did  not  Injure  the  mine?  "  he  blurted  out ;  but,  for 
the  life  of  him,  he  could  not  conceal  the  envy  in  his  voice. 

"  Did  good,  really,"  chortled  MacGonigal.  "  We  had 
to  drive  a  new  adit,  an'  that  cleared  away  enough  rock 
ter  give  us  elbow-room.    The  fust  intake  was  up  thar," 


Wherein  Power  Travels  East  73 

and  he  pointed  to  that  part  of  the  Gulch  where  Power 
had  once  wrought  with  death  on  a  long-vanished  ledge. 
"  Now  we  go  in  about  a  hundred  feet  west  of  this  yer 
veranda,  an'  the  haulin'  is  easier." 

"  Mr.  Power  and  you  have  created  a  marvelous  prop- 
erty here,"  said  Willard  after  a  long  pause. 

"  Not  me,"  said  MacGonigal  quickly.  "  I  helped 
Derry  with  my  wad ;  but  he  did  all  the  thinkin',  an'  it's 
like  a  fresh  chapter  outer  a  fairy  tale  when  I  wake  up 
every  fine  mornin'  an'  remember  that  my  third  share  is 
bringin'  me  in  close  on  five  hundred  dollars  a  day." 

"  So  Power's  interest  is  worth  three  hundred  thou- 
sand dollars  a  year?  " 

"  More'n  that,  I  reckon.  The  output  keeps  on  pilin' 
up,  an'  Derry's  horses  '11  add  a  tidy  bit  to  his  bank 
balance  this  year." 

"His  horses?" 

"  Yep.  Hain't  you  heerd?  One-thumb  Jake  is  man- 
ager of  the  plug  department.  Nigh  on  fifty  two-year- 
olds  '11  be  sold  this  fall  at  two  hundred  dollars  an' 
more  a  throw.  I  suspicioned  Derry  was  goin'  crazy 
when  he  bought  up  so  many  mares ;  but  I  allow  he  has 
the  bulge  on  me  now.  An'  Jake !  Dang  me  if  he  didn't 
show  up  at  a  dance  t'other  evenin'  with  a  silver  fringe 
on  his  chaps  !  " 

Willard  turned  reluctantly  into  the  darkened  room, 
and,  by  some  mischance,  when  his  eyes  had  recovered 
from  the  external  glare,  the  first  object  they  dwelt  on 
was  a  framed  pencil  sketch  of  the  Dolores  homestead 
as  he  had  last  seen  it — a  dreary,  ramshackle  place,  arid 
and  poverty-stricken.  In  the  corner  was  written, 
'*  Nancy,"  and  a  date. 


74  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

"  The  ways  of  fortune  are  mysterious,"  he  said,  mak- 
ing shift  to  utter  the  words  calmly.  "  I  endured  ten 
long  years  of  financial  loss  in  the  house  which  my  daugh- 
ter has  shown  there.  She  used  to  know  Mr.  Power,  and 
gave  the  drawing  to  him,  I  suppose." 

"  Derry  thinks  a  heap  of  that  picter,"  commented 
MacGonigal. 

"  I  wonder  why?  " 

''  He  never  tole  me." 

Willard  laughed  disagreeably.  He  had  not  forgot- 
ten Mac's  peculiarities,  one  of  which  used  to  be  blank 
ignorance  concerning  any  subject  on  which  he  did  not 
wish  to  be  drawn. 

"  By  the  way,"  he  said,  "  why  did  you  give  the  new 
mine  such  a  queer  name — El  Pre90 — I  guess  you 
know  it  means,  'The  Price '.'^  Why  was  it  called 
that?  " 

"  It  was  jest  a  notion  of  Derry 's." 

"  Rather  odd,  wasn't  it?" 

''  Derry's  mostly  odd,  size  him  up  anyways  you 
hev'  a  mind  ter." 

"  I  could  have  understood  it  better  had  he  chris- 
tened the  place, '  The  Bargain.'  He  shook  me  up  good 
and  hard  when  he  grabbed  Dolores  for  five  thousand 
dollars." 

"  He  sure  had  his  wits  about  him,  had  Derry,"  said 
MacGonigal  admiringly. 

"  And  he  has  gone  now  to  New  York,  you  tell  me," 
went  on  Willard. 

"  East,  I  said." 

"  Well,  East  stands  for  New  York  all  the  time.  Is 
he  making  a  long  stay  there?  " 


Wherein  Power  Travels  East  75 

"  He  never  said  a  word.  Jest,  *  So  long,  Mack,'  an', 
*  So  long,  Derry.'  That's  all  thar  was  to  it.  Kin  I 
get  you  a  drink?  Thar's  a  chunk  of  ice  somewhar  in 
the  outfit." 

"  No,  thanks.  Time  I  got  a  move  on.  How  about 
those  freight  cars  of  yours  ?  Have  I  a  clear  road  back 
through  the  Gulch?" 

"  Thar's  a  half-hour's  off  spell  right  now,"  was 
the  prompt  answer,  and  a  minute  later  the  resident 
manager  of  El  Pre90  mine  was  watching  Willard  de- 
scend the  canyon  in  the  direction  of  Bison. 

"  I'd  give  a  ten-spot  ter  know  jest  why  that  skunk 
kem  nosin'  round  here,"  he  mused,  gazing  contem- 
platively after  the  slow-moving  mustang  and  its  rider. 
Then  he  called  the  youth  who  had  held  the  horse  during 
Willard's  brief  visit. 

"  What  sort  of  an  Indian  air  you,  Billy?  "  he  grinned. 

"  Purty  spry.  Boss,  when  the  trail's  fresh,"  said  the 
boy. 

"  Well,  hike  after  old  man  Willard,  an'  let  me  know 
when  he's  safe  off  this  yer  section." 

Within  a  couple  of  hours  Billy  reported  that  Willard 
had  entered  a  train  bound  for  Denver,  and  MacGoni- 
gal  blew  a  big  breath  of  relief.  It  was  not  that  he 
had  the  slightest  misgiving  as  to  the  effect  of  Willard's 
ill  will  against  either  his  partner  or  himself,  but  he 
was  intensely  anxious  that  Power  should  not  come  in 
contact  with  anyone  who  would  remind  him  of  the 
existence  of  Mrs.  Hugh  Marten.  Power  himself  never 
mentioned  her;  so  his  faithful  friend  and  trusted  asso- 
ciate in  business  could  only  hope  that  the  passing  years, 
with  their  multiplicity  of  fresh  interests,  were  gradu- 


76  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

ally  dimming  the  memory  of  events  which  had  altered 
the  whole  course  of  his  life. 

MacGonigal  did  not  think  it  necessary  to  tell  Wil- 
lard  that  Power  had  brought  his  mother  from  San 
Francisco  soon  after  the  mine  proved  its  worth.  Mother 
and  son  occupied  the  Dolores  ranch.  The  presence  of 
the  gentle,  white-haired  woman  was  a  positive  blessing 
to  Bison;  for  she  contrived  to  divert  no  mean  per- 
centage of  her  son's  big  income  into  channels  of  social 
and  philanthropic  effort  in  which  she  took  a  close  per- 
sonal interest.  A  library  and  reading-room  had  been 
established ;  a  technical  instruction  class  offered  an  ex- 
cellent supplement  to  the  state  school;  a  swimming 
bath  was  built  close  to  the  mills;  two  churches  were 
in  course  of  erection;  a  wideawake  theatrical  manager 
at  Denver  had  secured  a  site  for  a  theater  and  the 
township  already  boasted  its  ten  miles  of  metaled  road- 
way. In  the  self-satisfied  phrase  of  the  inhabitants, 
Bison  was  becoming  "  quite  a  place,"  and  everyone 
testified  that  it  was  to  Mrs.  Power  rather  than  her 
son  that  all  these  civic  improvements  were  due.  Men 
had  even  ceased  to  consult  Power  himself  on  such 
matters. 

"  You  run  and  see  my  mother  about  that,"  he  would 
say,  with  a  quiet  smile,  when  someone  had  endeavored 
to  arouse  his  sympathy  in  behalf  of  a  deserving  object.. 
"  It's  my  affair  to  make  the  money  which  she  spends. 
Get  her  to  O.  K.  your  scheme,  and  it  goes." 

In  business  he  was  equally  unapproachable. 

"Put  it  before  MacGonigal,"  was  his  regular 
formula.  "  I  can't  do  a  thing  without  his  say-so.  But 
I  warn  you  he  is  a  terror.    If  there's  a  kink  in  your 


Wherein  Power  Travels  East  77 

proposition,  he'll  find  it,  as  sure  as  Jake  can  run  his 
fingers  onto  a  splint." 

For  all  that,  the  stout  manager  of  mine  and  mill 
realized  his  limitations. 

Once,  and  once  only,  did  MacGonigal  act  in  the  be- 
lief that  Power  had  referred  a  point  to  him  for  final 
settlement.  A  glib  agent  for  mining  machinery  per- 
suaded him  to  purchase  a  new  type  of  drill,  which 
proved  absolutely  useless  when  asked  to  disintegrate  the 
hard  granite  of  Colorado.  Power  laughed  when  he 
heard  of  its  failure. 

"  You  must  have  thought  it  was  meant  for  cutting 
cheese,  Mac,"  he  said  lightly.  But  the  barbed  shaft 
struck  home,  and  "  the  terror  "  bought  no  more  drills 
without  first  consulting  the  man  who  understood  them. 

Thus,  slowly  but  eff*ectually.  Power  contrived  to  iso- 
late himself  from  Bison.  With  an  almost  uncanny 
prescience  he  gave  occasional  directions  in  the  mine, 
or  suggested  some  modification  in  the  milling  process 
which  invariably  resulted  in  a  higher  percentage  of 
extraction.  For  the  rest,  he  devoted  his  days  to  the 
improvement  of  the  stud  farm,  and  his  evenings  to  books. 
His  mother  tried  vainly  to  dissipate  this  recluse  trend 
of  thought  and  habit.  On  one  memorable  occasion  she 
invited  a  friend  and  her  two  cheerful  and  good-looking 
daughters  to  visit  the  ranch  for  a  week.  Timidly 
enough,  she  had  sprung  a  surprise  on  her  son,  warning 
him  of  the  forthcoming  invasion  only  when  it  was  too 
late  to  stop  travelers  already  en  route  from  San  Fran- 
cisco. Then  she,  like  MacGonigal,  had  to  learn  her 
lesson.  Derry  agreed  she  had  acted  quite  rightly.  He 
merely  expressed  a  suave  doubt  that  the  ladies  would 


78  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

enjoy  the  enforced  seclusion  of  a  place  like  Dolores, 
but  they  might  appreciate  the  air.  Then  he  strolled 
out,  and  a  telegram  from  Denver  apologized  for  a  sud- 
den departure  to  Chicago.  He  explained  in  a  letter 
that  he  was  in  need  of  a  number  of  books,  and  thought 
it  best  to  look  through  the  bookstores  in  person  rather 
than  trust  to  catalogues.  He  returned  two  days  after 
the  guests  had  left,  and  there  were  no  more  experi- 
ments in  that  direction.  Be  sure  that  an  anxious  mother 
had  long  ago  formed  a  remarkably  accurate  opinion 
as  to  the  circumstances  attending  Nancy  Willard's 
wedding;  but,  being  a  wise  woman,  she  said  no  word 
to  her  son  concerning  it,  and  was  content  to  pray  that 
the  cloud  might  lift  from  off  his  soul,  and  that  he  might 
yet  meet  a  girl  who  would  make  him  a  good  and  loving 
wife.  For  that  is  the  way  of  women  who  are  mothers 
• — they  find  real  joy  only  in  the  well-being  of  their  off- 
spring. Though  this  gentle-hearted  creature  knew  that 
she  was  risking  some  of  her  own  belated  happiness  in 
bringing  about  her  son's  marriage,  she  was  ready  to 
dare  that,  and  more,  for  his  sake.  She  longed  to  renew 
her  own  youth  in  fondling  his  children.  She  was  almost 
feverishly  desirous  of  seeing  him  thoroughly  established 
in  a  bright  and  cheerful  home  before  the  gathering  mists 
shut  him  out  forever  from  her  sight.  So  she  waited, 
and  watched,  and  wondered  what  the  future  had  in  store 
for  her  loved  one,  and  often,  in  her  musings,  she  tried 
to  imagine  what  manner  of  girl  Nancy  Willard  was 
that  she  should  have  inspired  such  an  enduring  and 
hopeless  passion. 

The  upheaval,  when  it  came,  was  due  to  the  sim- 
plest of  causes.     Power  had  foreseen  the  tremendous 


Wherein  Power  Travels  East  79 

industrial  development  which  lay  before  Colorado,  and 
indulged  his  horse-breeding  hobby  on  lines  calculated 
to  produce  a  large  income  wholly  apart  from  the  ever- 
increasing  profits  of  the  mine.  The  state  needed  horses, 
which  must  be  strong  of  bone,  with  plenty  of  lung  ca- 
pacity; yet  not  too  heavy,  for  mountain  tracks  and 
dusty  valleys  are  anathema  to  the  soft  Belgian.  They 
must  be  presentable  animals,  too,  symmetrical,  of  un- 
tarnished lineage,  and  of  a  type  fitted  either  for  saddle 
or  harness,  because  Colorado  was  making  money  in  a 
hurry.  Thus,  it  chanced  that,  shortly  before  Willard's 
ill-omened  visit  to  Bison,  an  Eastern  agent  wrote  ad- 
vising Power  to  attend  a  sale  in  New  York,  A  noted 
breeder  of  hackneys,  who  had  imported  some  of  the 
best  sires  from  England  and  Russia,  and  owned  sev- 
eral fine  Percherons,  was  breaking  up  his  stud,  and 
the  chance  thus  presented  of  securing  some  magnificent 
stock  might  not  be  repeated  during  another  decade. 

Power  asked  his  mother  to  accompany  him;  but  she 
was  afraid  of  the  long  journey  in  the  torrid  tempera- 
ture then  obtaining.  Yielding  to  his  wishes,  she  tele- 
graphed a  second  time  to  her  San  Francisco  friends, 
and  they  accepted  an  invitation  joyously  and  promptly. 
Moreover,  seeing  that  she  was  regarding  with  some 
misgivings  his  prospective  absence  from  the  ranch  for 
a  period  which  could  not  well  be  less  than  three  weeks, 
he  made  a  great  concession. 

"If  Mrs.  Moore  and  her  girls  can  arrange  to  stay 
so  long,  keep  them  here  until  I  return,"  he  said,  and 
the  pleasure  in  the  worn,  lined  face  fully  repaid  the 
effort  those  words  cost  him.  So  they  kissed,  and  parted, 
and  the  weary  years  which  have  passed  since  that  sun- 


80  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

lit  morning  in  Colorado  have  contained  no  diviner  solace 
for  the  man  than  the  knowledge  that  he  left  his  mother 
well  satisfied  with  her  lot,  and  smiling  a  farewell  with- 
out the  slightest  premonition  of  evil  or  sorrow.  It  is 
well  to  part  thus  from  those  whom  we  love ;  for  no  man 
knows  what  the  future  may  have  in  store — and  horror 
would  have  been  added  to  the  burden  of  Power's  suf- 
fering if  recollections  of  the  last  hours  of  companion- 
ship with  his  mother  were  clouded  by  an  abiding  sense 
of  unkindness  or  unfilial  treatment. 

So  Power  hied  him  to  New  York,  which  meant  that 
he  passed  three  hot  nights  and  two  hotter  days  in  a 
fast-speeding  train.  The  Rock  Island  Railroad  took 
him  across  the  rolling  prairie  to  Omaha  and  Chicago, 
and,  in  the  city  which  no  steer  nor  sheep  nor  hog  can 
visit  and  live,  he  entered  the  palatial  Pennsylvania 
Limited,  which,  in  those  unregenerate  days,  dumped 
him  out  early  in  the  morning  on  the  New  Jersey  shore. 
Then,  for  the  first  time,  he  saw  New  York,  and  saw  it 
from  the  river,  which  is  the  one  way  to  see  New  York 
for  the  first  time.  Crossing  by  the  ferry  to  23d  Street, 
he  did  not,  it  is  true,  secure  that  wondrous  initial 
glimpse  of  a  city,  unequaled,  in  many  respects,  by  any 
other,  which  is  vouchsafed  to  the  traveler  arriving  by 
sea.  But,  even  twenty-two  years  ago,  the  busy  Hud- 
son was  no  mean  stream,  and  when  Power's  unaccus- 
tomed eye  turned  bewildered  from  the  maze  of  shipping 
which  thronged  that  magnificent  waterway  it  found 
fresh  wonders  in  the  far-flung  panorama  stretching 
from  Grant's  Tomb  to  the  Battery.  At  that  time 
Trinity  Church  was  still  a  landmark,  for  New  York 
had  hardly  begun  to  climb  into  the  empyrean;  so  the 


Wherein  Power  Travels  East  81 

prospect  was  pleasing  rather  than  stupefying,  as  it  is 
today. 

A  hot  wind  already  hissed  with  furnace-breath  over 
the  fourteen  miles  of  serried  streets  that  lined  the  oppo- 
site shore ;  for,  in  the  long  years  which  have  sped  since 
Power  first  crossed  the  Hudson,  New  York  has  neither 
lengthened  nor  broadened.  Even  mighty  Gotham  can- 
not achieve  the  impossible;  so,  in  the  interim,  several 
new  cities  have  been  superimposed  on  the  older  one 
which  spread  its  beauties  before  his  bewildered  vision. 
The  Paris — who  of  the  middle  generation  does  not  re- 
member the  Parisy  with  her  invariable  list  to  starboard, 
after  an  ocean  crossing? — was  creeping  slowly  upstream, 
and  Power  was  amused  by  the  discovery  that  the  big 
ship,  like  himself,  moved  with  a  limp.  The  City  of  Rome, 
whose  yacht-like  lines  suggested  the  poetry  of  motion, 
but,  as  is  the  mode  on  Parnassus,  adhered  strictly  to 
suggestion,  lay  at  anchor  near  the  Jersey  shore,  and 
when  the  ferry  churned  around  her  graceful  stem,  the 
grim  walls  of  the  Palisades  completed  a  picture  which 
admits  of  few  peers.  Disillusionment  came  later;  but 
the  spell  of  that  thrilling  first  impression  was  never 
wholly  lost.  Driving  through  23d  Street,  on  his  way 
to  the  Waldorf  Hotel,  Power  could  not  help  compar- 
ing this  important  thoroughfare  with  Market  Street, 
San  Francisco,  and  State  Street,  Chicago,  and  the 
architectural  stock  of  the  metropolis  experienced  a  sud- 
den slump.  Nor  did  it  wholly  recover  lost  points  when 
his  carriage  entered  Madison  Square,  with  its  newly 
erected  campanile,  almost  a  replica  of  the  stately 
Giralda  tower  in  Seville,  its  glimpses  of  Broadway, 
south  and  north,  its  stolid  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel,  and  its 


82  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

chastely  elegant,  though  still  towerless,  white  Metro- 
politan building.  Even  the  Waldorf,  then  less  than 
a  fourth  of  the  Waldorf-Astoria,  though  notable  al- 
ready among  the  public  palaces  of  the  world,  failed 
to  strike  his  imagination  with  the  appeal  of  the  Palace 
Hotel,  San  Francisco ;  the  truth  being  that  New  York, 
first  in  the  field  by  a  couple  of  centuries,  had  not  yet 
begun,  like  Milton's  eagle,  to  mew  her  mighty  youth. 

It  would  assuredly  be  interesting  to  those  who  knew 
and  loved  the  queen  city  of  the  Atlantic  nearly  a  quar- 
ter of  a  century  ago  if  Power's  revised  and  corrected 
opinions  might  be  quoted  now.  But  the  chronicle  of 
a  man's  life  ought  to  be  accurate  before  it  is  picturesque, 
and  the  truth  is  that  the  heat-wave  which  was  then 
withering  the  whole  Eastern  seaboard  kept  this  visitor 
from  breezy  Colorado  pent  within  the  marble  halls  of 
the  Waldorf  Hotel,  save  when  urgent  need  drove  him 
forth.  That  particular  scourge  of  high  temperature 
was  destined  to  become  historical.  The  thermometer 
soared  up  beyond  100  degrees  Fahrenheit;  hundreds 
of  people  were  stricken  daily  by  heat  apoplexy;  the 
hospitals  were  crammed  to  their  utmost  capacity;  the 
asphalt  pavement,  where  it  existed,  showed  ruts  like 
a  muddy  road  in  the  country;  and  it  is  easy  to  un- 
derstand why  a  man  who  had  cheerfully  endured  110 
degrees  and  115  degrees  in  the  dry  heat  of  the  nearer 
Rockies  should  gasp  for  air  here  like  a  fish  out  of  water. 

Worst  of  all,  the  horse  sale  was  postponed.  The 
owner  of  the  stud  and  his  prospective  patrons  alike 
had  flown  to  sea  and  mountain  for  relief.  As  inquiry 
showed  that  the  horse-breeder  himself  had  gone  to  New- 
port, Power  made  haste  to  secure  a  stateroom  on  one 


Wherein  Power  Travels  East  83 

of  the  Fall  River  line  of  steamboats,  and  it  was  on  this 
quest  that  the  Puritan  Maiden^  a  vessel  on  which  folk 
would  travel  merely  for  the  sake  of  describing  her  to 
their  friends,  brought  him  to  the  chief  summer  resort 
of  fashionable  life  in  America. 

He  had  not  the  slightest  notion  that  Mrs.  Hugh  Mar- 
ten was  disporting  herself  daily  on  that  particular 
stretch  of  Rhode  Island  beach.  For  all  that  he  knew, 
she  might  as  well  have  been  at  Trouville  or  Brighton. 
Indeed,  had  anyone  dared  the  lightning  of  his  glance  by 
mentioning  her,  and  if  he  were  compelled  to  hazard  a 
guess  as  to  her  possible  whereabouts,  he  would  certainly 
have  said  that,  to  the  best  of  his  belief,  she  was  in 
Europe.  Such  was  the  fact ;  but  there  are  facts  in  every 
life  which  assume  the  guise  of  sheer  incredibility  when 
analyzed,  say,  in  the  doubtful  atmosphere  of  a  law-court. 
In  the  dark  days  to  come,  during  those  silent  watches  of 
the  night  when  a  man  looks  back  along  the  tortuous  ways 
of  the  past,  John  Darien  Power  could  only  lift  impotent 
hands  to  Heaven  and  plead  in  anguish  that  he  might  at 
least  have  been  spared  an  ordeal  which  he  not  only  did 
not  seek,  but  would  have  fled  to  the  uttermost  parts  of 
the  earth  to  have  avoided.  Such  moments  of  intro- 
spection were  few  and  far  between,  it  is  true.  His  was 
too  self-contained  a  nature  that  he  should  rail  against 
the  Omnipotent  for  having  tested  him  beyond  endur- 
ance. He  made  a  great  fight,  and  he  failed,  and  he 
paid  an  indemnity  which  is  not  to  be  measured  by  any 
other  scale  than  that  alone  which  records  the  noblest 
effort. 

To  his  own  thinking,  the  tragedy  of  his  life  began 
that  day  in  Bison  when  the  sympathetic  storekeeper  told 


84  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

liim  of  Nancy  Willard's  marriage.  But  he  was  wrong 
in  that  belief.  A  man  may  lose  the  woman  he  loves, 
and  recover  from  the  blow,  but  he  peers  into  abysmal 
depths  when  he  meets  her  as  another  man's  wife,  and 
finds  that  love,  though  sorely  wounded,  is  not  dead.  It 
is  then  that  certain  major  fiends,  unknown  to  the  gen- 
erality, come  forth  from  their  lairs — and  there  must 
have  been  a  rare  awakening  of  crafty  ghouls  on  the 
day  Power  reached  Newport. 


CHAPTER  VI 
THE  MEETING 

When  Power  arrived  at  New  England's  chief  sum- 
mer resort  on  a  glorious  July  morning  twenty-two  years 
ago,  man  had  succeeded  in  adding  only  a  garish  fringe 
to  a  quietly  beautiful  robe  devised  by  Nature.  Some 
few  pretentious  houses  had  been  built;  but  local  resi- 
dences in  the  mass  made  up  an  architectural  hotch- 
potch utterly  at  variance  with  sylvan  solitudes  and 
breezy  cliffs.  Rhode  Island,  which  lends  its  name  to 
the  entire  state,  is  slightly  larger  than  Manhattan.  A 
long  southwesterly  spur  shields  from  the  mighty  rages 
of  the  Atlantic  the  little  bay  on  which  the  old  town 
of  Newport  stands ;  but  the  climate  has  the  bracing 
freshness  which  is  almost  invariably  associated  with  the 
northern  half  of  that  great  ocean.  If  the  bare  rudiments 
of  artistry  existed  among  the  idle  rich  who  overran  the 
island  during  the  '80's,  it  should  have  protected  a 
charming  blend  of  seashore  and  grassy  downs  from  the 
Italian  palaces,  Rhenish  castles,  Swiss  chalets,  and  don- 
jon keeps  which  the  freakish  conceits  of  plutocrats  placed 
cheek  by  jowl  along  the  coast.  Nowadays  these  ex- 
crescences are  either  swallowed  in  forests  of  well  grown 
trees  or  have  become  so  beautified  by  creepers  that  they 
have  lost  much  of  their  bizarre  effect ;  while  magnificent 
avenues,  carefully  laid  out  and  well  shaded,  run  through 
a  new  city  of  delightful  villas  and  resplendent  gar- 

85 


86  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

dens.  But  Power's  first  stroll  from  the  portals  of  the 
Ocean  House  revealed  a  medley  in  which  bad  taste  ran 
riot.  The  Casino,  a  miserable-looking  structure,  was 
saved  from  dismal  mediocrity  by  its  splendid  lawns 
alone;  the  surf-bathers'  friends  were  protected  from 
the  fierce  sun  by  a  long,  low  shanty  built  of  rough 
planks ;  the  roads  were  unkempt,  and  ankle-deep  in  mud 
or  dust ;  broken-down  shacks  alternated  with  mansions ; 
a  white  marble  replica  of  some  old  Florentine  house, 
stuck  bleakly  on  one  knob  of  a  promontory,  was  scowled 
at  by  a  heavy-j  owled  fortress  cumbering  its  neighbor. 

He  found  these  things  irritating.  They  were  less 
in  harmony  with  their  environment  than  the  corru- 
gated iron  roofs  of  Bison.  His  gorge  rose  at  them. 
They  satisfied  no  esthetic  sense.  In  a  word,  he  re- 
solved to  get  through  his  business  with  the  horse- 
fancying  judge  as  speedily  as  might  be,  and  escape  to 
the  unspoiled  wilderness  of  Maine. 

Were  it  not  for  one  of  those  minor  accidents  which 
at  times  can  exert  such  irresistible  influence  on  the 
course  of  future  events,  he  would  certainly  have  left 
Newport  without  ever  being  aware  of  Mrs.  Marten's 
presence  there.  He  ascertained  that  the  judge  had 
gone  off  early  in  the  morning  on  a  yachting  excursion 
up  Narragansett  Bay,  having  arranged  to  lunch  at  a 
friend's  house  at  Pawtucket;  so,  perforce,  he  had  to 
wait  in  Newport  another  day. 

At  dinner  he  was  allotted  a  seat  at  a  large  round 
table  reserved  for  unattached  males  like  himself.  The 
company  was  a  curiously  mixed  one,  but  pleasant  withal. 
A  Norwegian  from  San  Francisco,  who  sold  Japanese 
curios,   a   globe-trotting   Briton,   a   Southerner   from 


The  Meeting  87 

Alabama,  a  man  from  Plainville,  New  Jersey,  and  a 
Mexican  who  spoke  no  English,  made  up,  with  Power 
himself,  a  genuinely  cosmopolitan  board,  and  Power 
soon  discovered  that  he  was  the  only  person  present 
who  could  understand  the  Mexican.  Mere  politeness 
insisted  that  he  should  lend  his  aid  as  interpreter  when 
a  negro  waiter  asked  the  olive-skinned  sefior  what  he 
would  like  to  eat ;  but  the  "  Greaser,"  as  he  was  dubbed 
instantly,  proved  to  be  a  jovial  soul,  who  laughed  when 
any  of  the  other  men  laughed,  insisted  on  having  the 
joke  translated,  and  roared  again  when  it  was  explained 
to  him,  so  that  each  quip  earned  a  double  recognition, 
while  he  never  failed  to  pay  his  own  score  by  some 
joyous  anecdote  or  amusing  repartee.  Thus,  Power 
was  forced  into  the  role  of  "  good  fellow  "  in  a  way 
which  he  would  not  have  believed  possible  a  few  hours 
earlier.  In  spite  of  himself,  the  merry  mood  of  other 
years  came  uppermost,  and,  when  the  party  broke  up 
at  midnight,  after  a  long  and  lively  sitting  on  a  moon- 
lit veranda,  he  retired  to  his  room  with  a  certain  feel- 
ing of  marvel  and  agreeable  surprise  at  the  change 
which  one  evening  of  enforced  relaxation  had  effected 
in  his  outlook  on  life.  He  decided  that  these  chance 
companions  had  done  him  a  world  of  good,  that  his 
misanthropic  attitude  was  a  false  one,  and  that  a  week 
or  two  at  Newport  might  send  him  back  to  Colorado 
a  better  man.  Applying  to  a  state  of  mind  a  metaphor 
drawn  from  material  things,  he  felt  as  an  Englishman 
feels  who  leaves  his  own  dripping  and  fog-bound  island 
on  a  January  afternoon  and  wakes  next  morning  amid 
the  roses  and  sunshine  of  the  Riviera.  The  glitter  on 
land  and  sea  may  bear  a  close  resemblance  to  spangles 


88  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

and  gilt  paper  on  the  stage ;  but  it  is  cheering  to  eyes 
which  have  not  seen  the  sun  for  weeks,  and  when,  in 
such  conditions,  John  Bull  sits  down  to  luncheon  under 
the  awnings  of  a  cafe  facing  the  blue  Mediterranean, 
he  is  unquestionably  quite  a  different  being  from  the 
muffled-up  person  who  hurried  on  board  the  steamer 
at  Dover. 

Power  had  contrived  to  withdraw  himself  so  com- 
pletely from  the  more  genial  side  of  existence  at  Bison 
that  he  rediscovered  it  with  a  fresh  zest.  Next  day 
he  was  no  longer  alone.  The  man  from  Birmingham, 
Alabama,  and  the  Englishman  shared  his  love  of  horses, 
and  the  three  visited  the  judge,  who  stabled  some  of 
his  cattle  on  the  island,  and  had  photographs  and 
pedigrees  galore  wherewith  to  describe  the  stock  on 
his  New  York  farm. 

So  Power  stayed  two  days,  and  yet  a  third,  and  he 
was  laughing  with  the  rest  at  some  quaint  bit  of  Span- 
ish humor  which  he  had  translated  for  the  benefit 
of  the  company  at  dinner  on  the  third  evening,  when 
he  became  aware  that  a  lady,  entering  with  a  large 
party,  for  whose  use  a  table  had  been  specially  deco- 
rated, was  standing  stock-still  and  looking  at  him.  He 
lifted  his  eyes,  and  met  the  astonished  gaze  of  Mrs. 
Marten. 

**  Derry !  "  she  gasped. 

"  Nancy !  "  said  he,  wholly  off  his  guard,  and  flush- 
ing violently  in  an  absurd  consciousness  of  having  com- 
mitted some  fault.  She  had  caught  him,  as  it  were, 
in  a  boisterous  moment  utterly  at  variance  with  the 
three  years  of  self-imposed  monasticism  which  followed 
her  marriage.    Yet,  with  the  speed  of  thought,  he  saw 


The  Meeting  89 

the  futility  of  such  reasoning.  The  girl-wife  knew 
nothing  of  his  sufferings.  She  was  greeting  him  with 
all  the  warmth  of  undiminished  friendship,  and  could 
not  possibly  understand  that  he  had  endured  tortures 
for  her  sake.  So  he  regained  his  wits  almost  at  once, 
and  was  on  his  feet,  bowing. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Mrs.  Marten,"  he  went  on. 
"  Your  presence  here  took  me  completely  unawares. 
You  are  the  last  person  breathing  I  expected  to  see 
in  Newport." 

She  laughed  delightedly,  with  no  hint  of  flurry  or 
confusion  beyond  that  first  natural  outburst. 

"  It  would  sound  much  nicer  if  you  said  what  I 
am  going  to  say  to  you,"  she  cried,  "  that  you  are 
one  of  the  few  persons  breathing  whom  I  am  really 
delighted  to  see  in  Newport.  But  I  can't  stop  and 
talk  now.  I'll  ask  Mrs.  Van  Ralten  to  forgive  me  if 
I  slip  away  from  her  party  for  ten  minutes  after  din- 
ner. Mind,  you  wait  for  me  on  the  veranda.  I'm  sim- 
ply dying  to  hear  some  news  of  dear  old  Bison !  How 
is  Mac?  Oh,  my!  I  really  must  go.  But  don't  you 
dare  escape  afterward  I  " 

Forgetful  of  all  else,  he  allowed  his  startled  eyes 
to  follow  her  as  she  ran  to  her  place  at  the  neigh- 
boring table.  She  was  dressed  in  some  confection  of 
white  tulle  and  silver;  a  circlet  of  diamonds  sparkled 
in  her  thick  brown  hair;  a  big  ruby  formed  a  clasp  in 
front  for  an  aigrette  of  osprey  plumes;  her  robes  and 
bearing  were  those  of  a  princess.  Were  it  not  for 
the  warranty  of  his  senses,  he  would  never  have  pic- 
tured the  girl  of  the  Dolores  ranch  in  this  fine  lady. 
Even  now  he  stood  as  one  in  a  trance,  half  incredulous 


90  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

of  the  evidence  of  eyes  and  ears,  and  seemingly  afraid 
lest  he  might  awake  and  come  back  to  the  common- 
places of  an  existence  in  which  the  Nancy  Willard  of 
his  dreams  had  no  part. 

The  Englishman,  Dacre  by  name,  knew  something 
of  the  world  and  its  denizens,  and  he  had  seen  the 
blood  rush  to  his  friend's  face  and  ebb  away  again 
until  the  brown  skin  was  sallow. 

"  Sit  down,  old  chap,"  he  said  quietly.  "  I  was 
just  thinking  of  ordering  some  wine  for  the  public  bene- 
fit.    Do  you  drink  fizz?  '* 

The  calm  voice  helped  to  restore  Power's  bemused 
senses.  Afraid  lest  his  moonstruck  attitude  might  have 
been  observed  by  some  of  Mrs.  Marten's  companions, 
he  tried  to  cover  his  confusion  by  a  jest. 

"  Wine,  did  you  say  ?  "  he  cried.  "  Certainly — let's 
have  a  magnum.  Bottled  sunlight  should  help  to  dis- 
sipate visions." 

"  Anacreon  has  something  to  that  effect  in  one  of 
his  odes ;  though  he  vowed  that  he  worshiped  Wine, 
Woman,  and  the  Muses  in  equal  measure." 

"  Who  is  Anacreon.?  "  asked  the  man  from  Plain- 
ville. 

"  He  flourished  at  Athens  about  600  B.C.,"  laughed 
Dacre. 

"  Did  he  ?  By  gosh !  The  Greeks  knew  a  bit,  then, 
even  at  that  time." 

"  This  one  in  particular  was  an  authority  on  those 
three  topics.  Love,  to  him,  was  no  mischievous  boy 
armed  with  silver  darts,  but  a  giant  who  struck  with 
a  smith's  hammer.  He  died  like  a  gentleman,  too,  be- 
ing choked  by  a  grapestone  at  the  age  of  eighty-five." 


The  Meeting  91 

«  Ah,  that  explains  it !  " 

"  Explains  what?  " 

"  He  had  a  small  swallow,  or  rum  and  romance  would 
have  knocked  him  out  in  half  the  time." 

Power  was  rapidly  becoming  himself  again.  "  I 
behaved  like  a  stupid  boy  just  now,"  he  said; 
"  but  I  was  never  more  taken  aback  in  my  life. 
I  have  not  met  Mrs.  Marten  since  her  marriage, 
three  years  ago,  and  I  imagined  she  was  in 
Europe." 

"Oh,  is  that  Mrs.  Marten?"  chimed  in  downright 
Plainville.  "  Last  Sunday's  papers  whooped  her  up 
as  the  prize  beauty  of  Newport  this  summer,  and  I 
guess  they  got  nearer  the  truth  than  usual.  She's  a 
sure  winner." 

"Did  I  hear  her  mention  Mrs.  Van  Ralten?  "  in- 
quired Dacre. 

"  Yes,  her  hostess  tonight,  I  believe." 

"  Van  Ralten  and  Marten  hurried  off  together  to  the 
Caspian  last  week.  They  are  interested  in  the  oil  wells 
at  Baku." 

Cymbals  seemed  to  clash  in  Power's  brain,  and  he 
heard  his  own  voice  saying  in  a  subdued  and  colorless 
staccato,  "  I  am  sorry  I  did  not  meet  her  sooner.  I 
leave  tomorrow." 

Dacre  looked  at  him  curiously;  but  the  wine  had 
arrived,  a  choice  vintage  of  the  middle  '70's,  and  the 
Mexican  was  lifting  his  glass. 

"  El  sabio  muda  conseja;  el  necio  no"  he  quoted. 

The  phrase  was  so  apt  that  Power  glanced  at  the 
speaker  with  marked  doubt;  whereupon  the  blond  Nor- 
wegian asked  what  the  seiior  had  said. 


92  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

"  He  told  us  that  the  wise  man  changes  his  mind, 
but  the  fool  does  not,"  translated  Power. 

"  Gee  whizz !  "  cried  Plainville.  "  It's  a  pity  he  can't 
give  out  the  text  in  good  American ;  for  he  talks  horse 
sense  most  all  the  time.  If  /  had  a  peach  like  Mrs. 
Marten  callin'  me  *  Derry,'  damn  if  I'd  quit  for  a 
month  I" 

The  general  laugh  at  this  dry  comment  evoked  a 
demand  by  the  Mexican  for  a  Spanish  version  of  the 
joke.  Then  he  made  it  clear  that  he  had  resolved 
to  abjure  wine,  and  was  only  salving  his  conscience  by 
a  proverb. 

This  cheerful  badinage,  which  might  pass  among  any 
gathering  of  men  when  one  of  them  happened  to  be 
greeted  by  a  pretty  woman,  did  not  leave  Power  un- 
scathed. He  had  dwelt  too  long  apart  from  his  fellows 
not  to  wince  at  allusions  which  would  glance  harm- 
lessly off  less  sensitive  skins.  The  iron  which  had  en- 
tered into  his  soul  was  fused  to  a  white  heat  by  sight 
of  the  woman  he  had  loved  and  lost.  He  resented  what 
he  imagined  as  being  the  knowledge  these  boon  com- 
panions boasted  of  his  parlous  state.  Unable  to  join 
in  their  banter,  not  daring  to  trust  his  voice  in  the 
most  obvious  of  retorts,  for  the  man  from  Plainville 
had  not  been  designed  by  nature  to  pose  as  a  squire 
of  dames,  he  gulped  down  a  glass  of  champagne  at 
a  draft,  and  pretended  to  make  up  for  wasted  time 
in  an  interrupted  course. 

Dacre  seemed  to  think  that  he  would  be  interested 
in  the  latest  gossip  in  financial  circles  with  reference 
to  a  supposed  scheme  organized  by  Marten  and  Van 
Ralten  to  fight  the  Oil  Trust.     Power  listened  in  si- 


The  Meeting  98 

lence  until  he  felt  sure  of  himself;  then  he  launched 
out  vigorously. 

"  It  strikes  me  that  America  has  lost  the  art  of 
producing  great  men,"  he  said.  "  We  whites  are  de- 
generating into  mere  money-grubbers ;  so,  by  the  law 
of  compensation,  our  next  demigod  should  be  a  nigger." 

"  Huh !  "  snorted  Alabama,  eager  for  battle. 

"  That's  my  serious  opinion,"  continued  Power  dog- 
matically. "  And,  what's  more,  I  think  I  know  the  nig- 
ger. Have  any  of  you  dined  in  the  Auditorium  Hotel, 
Chicago?" 

Yes,  several ;  dining-room  on  top  floor ;  lightning  ele- 
vator ;  all  right  going  up  empty,  but  coming  down  full 
was  rather  a  trial. 

"  Well,  you  will  remember  that,  as  you  go  in,  a 
young  colored  gentleman  takes  your  hat  and  overcoat, 
and  cane  or  umbrella.  He  supplies  no  numbered 
voucher,  and  cannot  possibly  tell  at  which  tables  some 
six  or  seven  hundred  diners  will  be  seated.  At  this 
time  of  year  every  man  is  wearing  a  straw  hat  of  simi- 
lar design ;  yet,  as  each  guest  comes  forth,  he  is  handed 
his  own  hat  and  other  belongings.  Now,  I  hold  that 
that  nigger  has  a  brain  of  supreme  mathematical  ex- 
cellence. There  is  not  a  financier  in  Wall  Street  who 
could  begin  to  emulate  that  feat  of  memory.  Given 
a  chance,  and  such  men  make  their  own  opportunities. 
The  Auditorium  cloakroom  attendant  will  rise  to  a 
dizzy  height." 

"  Tosh ! "  exclaimed  Alabama,  primed  with  facts  to 
prove  that  hundreds  of  negroes  could  perform  similar 
tricks,  but  were  no  good  for  anything  else. 

He  was  no  match  for  Power  in  an  argument  where 


94  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

figures  held  a  place,  and  Dacre  was  the  only  other 
man  present  who  realized  that  the  talk  had  been  boldly 
and  skilfully  wrenched  to  an  impersonal  topic.  He, 
at  any  rate,  made  no  further  allusion  to  Marten  or  his 
projects  ;  though  he  continued  to  watch  Power  narrowly 
but  unobtrusively.  Himself  something  of  a  derelict, 
though  his  aimless  path  lay  in  summer  seas,  he  had 
conceived  a  warm  regard  for  the  quiet-mannered 
stranger  from  Colorado.  Neither  he  nor  any  of  the 
others  knew  aught  of  Power's  history,  who  might  really 
be  the  rancher  he  professed  to  be,  though  his  student's 
features  and  reserved  manner  did  not  bear  out  the  as- 
sumption. Later,  when  Dacre  was  better  informed,  he 
realized  the  cause  of  his  first  skepticism,  for  the  engi- 
neer belonged  to  one  of  those  rarer  types  of  mankind 
who,  like  the  lawyer,  the  soldier,  the  physician,  and 
the  clergyman,  had  the  seal  of  his  life's  work  stamped 
plainly  upon  him. 

Hence,  it  followed  that  in  a  spirit  of  sheer  comrade- 
ship and  sympathy  he  kept  an  eye  on  Power  during 
the  next  few  days.  He  saw  how  matters  were  tending, 
and  risked  a  rebuff  in  offering  a  friendly  hint  when 
disaster  was  imminent.  Above  all — whether  for  good 
or  evil  who  can  judge?  at  any  rate,  the  writer  of  this 
record  of  a  man's  life  feels  least  qualified  to  decide  the 
point — he  brought  a  dominating  influence  to  bear  at 
a  moment  when  Power  was  adrift  in  a  maelstrom  which 
threatened  to  engulf  him. 

Yet  there  was  slight  sign  of  impending  tempest  in 
that  bright  room  with  its  groups  of  diners  seemingly 
well  content  with  their  surroundings.  From  the  ad- 
joining table,  which  Power  could  not  see  owing  to  the 


The  Meeting  95 

position  he  occupied,  came  gusts  of  animated  con- 
versation. Mrs.  Van  Ralten  rejoiced  in  the  loud,  pene- 
trating accents  of  the  Middle  West,  and  snatches  of 
her  talk  were  audible. 

"  I  do  think  James  Gordon  might  have  provided  a 
more  stylish  Casino  while  he  was  about  it." 

"  Yes,  I  sail  on  the  Teutonic  first  week  in  August. 
Nothing  will  keep  Willie  away  from  the  moors  on  the 
Twelfth." 

"Did  I  see  them?  My  dear,  who  could  miss  them? 
Has  anyone  ever  met  such  freaks  outside  a  dime 
museum?  " 

"  Why,  Nancy,  I  don't  wonder  a  little  bit  that  you 
were  such  a  success  in  Paris.  The  nice  things  I  was 
told  about  you  turned  me  green  with  envy." 

Alabama  hotly  contested  each  milestone  of  the  Mason 
and  Dixon  Line;  but  Dacre  believed  that  Power  was 
less  intent  on  the  color  problem  than  on  catching  each 
syllable  of  a  sweet  voice  seldom  heard  above  the  clatter 
of  tongues  at  the  next  table.  At  last  the  meal  was 
ended,  and  the  men  strolled  out  into  the  veranda.  Mrs. 
Marten  seemed  to  know  when  her  friend  had  risen ;  she 
turned  and  waved  a  hand,  and  obviously  explained  her 
action  in  the  next  breath.  Soon  she  appeared,  a  radiant 
being  fully  in  keeping  with  moonlight  and  a  garden 
of  exotics. 

"  Mary  Van  Ralten  is  a  duck,"  she  said  joyously, 
when  Power  hurried  forward.  "  She  has  given  me  half 
an  hour;  but  I  mustn't  be  a  minute  later,  as  she  has 
turned  out  of  her  own  house  to  accommodate  the  Barn- 
stormers from  Boston,  who  are  acting  for  her  guests 
tonight.     All  Newport  will  be  there.     You  are  coming, 


96  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

Derry.  I  asked  her,  and  will  introduce  you  afterward. 
My  carriage  will  wait.  But,  gracious  me,  why  are  you 
lame?" 

He  was  leading  her  to  a  couple  of  reserved  chairs 
in  a  palm-shaded  nook,  and  she  noticed  that  he  walked 
with  a  limp. 

"  Happened  an  accident  near  the  mine  quite  a  time 
since,"  he  said. 

"  I  never  heard.  I  wonder  my  father  didn't  men- 
tion it.  Anyhow,  Derry,  why  have  you  never  writ- 
ten?" 

*'  Listen  to  the  pot  calling  the  kettle,  or,  if  that 
is  only  a  trite  simile,  listen  to  the  Fairy  Queen  berating 
a  poor  mortal  for  her  own  lapses  !  " 

"  Ah,  I  have  not  written  since  my  marriage,  it  is 
true,  but  you  treated  my  hapless  missives  so  cavalierly 
when  I  did  send  them  that  I  hardly  dared  risk  another 
rebuff." 

"  What  do  you  mean?  "  he  asked  thickly.  He  was 
priding  himself  on  the  ease  with  which  they  were  es- 
tablishing new  relations,  when  this  unlooked-for  devel- 
opment plunged  him  again  into  a  swift-running  current 
of  doubt  and  foreboding.  They  were  seated  now,  not 
side  by  side  as  he  had  planned,  but  in  such  wise  that 
Nancy  could  see  his  face  clearly,  she  having  deliberately 
pulled  her  chair  round  for  that  purpose. 

"  Exactly  what  I  have  said,"  she  answered  compos- 
edly. "  I  sent  three  separate  letters  to  Mr.  John 
Darien  Power,  the  Esperanza  Placer  Mine,  Sacramento 
— I  sha'n't  forget  the  address  in  a  hurry,  because  I've 
always  longed  to  ask  why  you  were  so  ready  to  desert 
a  friend — and,  seeing  that  not  one  of  them  was  re- 


The  Meeting  97 

turned  by  the  postoffice,  I  had  good  reason  to  suppose 
that  they  reached  you  all  right.  Derry,  don't  tell 
me  you  never  got  them !  " 

His  heart  seemed  to  miss  a  beat  or  two.  In  an 
instant  he  guessed  the  truth,  that  their  correspondence 
had  been  burked  by  malicious  contriving;  but  all  he 
could  find  to  say  was: 

"  Did  you  really  write  to  me?  " 

"  Of  course,  I  did.  Am  I  not  telling  you. ^^  And  you, 
Derry,  did  you  write  to  ine?  ** 

His  tongue  almost  cleaved  to  the  roof  of  his  mouth ; 
for  he  knew,  in  that  instant,  that  they  were  not  seated 
in  the  comfortable  veranda  of  the  Ocean  House,  but 
standing  side  by  side  on  the  lip  of  an  abyss. 

He  must  not,  he  dared  not,  answer  truly.  He  had 
no  right  to  make  wreck  and  ruin  of  this  bright  young 
life,  and  none  knew  so  well  as  he  how  proudly  she  would 
denounce  the  thievish  wiles  which  had  separated  them 
if  once  she  grasped  their  full  import. 

"  It  is  so  long  ago,"  he  muttered  brokenly.  "  So 
many  things  have  occurred  since.  I  have  forgotten. 
I — I  can  only  be  sure  that  I  received  no  letters  from 
you." 

"  You  have  forgotten !  "  she  repeated  slowly. 

"  Yes — that  is,  I  suffered  a  good  deal  from  a  broken 
leg — it  was  badly  set — that  is  why  I  have  such  a 
noticeable  hobble.  Events  round  about  that  period  are 
all  jumbled  up  in  my  mind." 

The  explanation  was  lame  as  his  leg.  It  would  never 
have  deceived  even  the  Nancy  Willard  of  bygone  years, 
and  was  utterly  thrown  away  on  this  wide-eyed  woman. 
She  was  conscious  of  a  fierce  pain  somewhere  in  the 


98  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

region  of  her  heart,  and  wanted  to  cry  aloud  in  her 
distress ;  but  she  crushed  the  impulse  with  a  self-re- 
straint that  had  become  second  nature,  and  bent  nearer, 
smiling  wanly. 

'*  Why  did  you  throw  away  your  cigar,  Derry  ?  "  she 
said.  "  Please  smoke.  Like  every  other  man,  you  will 
talk  more  easily  then.  And  do  tell  me  what  has  been 
going  on  at  Bison.  I  have  often  asked  Hugh  for  news ; 
but  he  says  he  never  hears  a  word  about  the  place  since 
he  sold  his  interests  there." 

Power  hardly  realized  how  swiftly  and  certainly  she 
had  made  smooth  the  way.  He  was  conscious  only  of 
a  vast  relief  that  the  subject  of  the  missing  corre- 
spondence was  dropped.  Only  in  later  hours  of  quiet 
reflection  did  he  grasp  the  reason — that  she  was  bit- 
terly aware  of  the  truth,  and  the  whole  truth.  He  began 
at  once  to  describe  developments  on  the  ranch,  and  was 
too  wishful  to  hide  his  own  confusion  behind  the  smoke  of 
a  cigar  to  notice  how  a  white-gloved  hand  clenched  the 
arm  of  a  chair  when  he  spoke  of  his  mother  and  the 
place  she  filled  in  public  esteem.  Unconsciously  he  was 
telling  Nancy  just  what  she  wanted  to  know.  He  was 
not  married.  There  was  no  other  woman!  She  ut- 
tered no  sound ;  but  her  lower  lip  bore  a  series  of  white 
marks  for  a  little  while. 

"  You  see,"  he  explained  glibly,  "  I  acquired  the  habit 
of  letting  other  people  work  when  I  was  laid  by  for 
repairs.  Please  excuse  these  frequent  references  to 
a  broken  limb,  which  seems  to  figure  in  my  talk  much 
as  King  Charles's  head  in  Mr.  Dick's  disjointed  manu- 
scripts. Anyhow,  I  had  plenty  of  time  for  reading,  as 
the  mine  paid  from  the  very  beginning,  and  a  rock 


The  Meeting  99 

spring  which  nearly  scared  Mac  stiff  came  in  handy  to 
irrigate  the  upper  part  of  the  ranch — ^that  long  slope 
just  below  the  Gulch,  you  remember." 

"  Yes,  I  remember,"  she  said. 

"  Well,  what  between  fruit-growing  and  horse-breed- 
ing, I  hardly  ever  have  time  to  go  near  Bison.  My 
mother  drives  in  every  day  over  the  new  trail " 

"What  new  trail?" 

"  We  had  to  cut  a  road  across  the  divide.  The 
Gulch  is  blocked  by  rails." 

"Why?" 

"  That  is  where  the  mine  is,  you  know." 

"  I  don't  know.  Whereabouts  exactly  is  the 
mine?  " 

"  It  starts  in  the  west  side  of  the  canyon,  about  a 
hundred  yards  from  the  ranch  end." 

"  Near  a  narrow  cleft,  topped  by  a  sloping  ledge?  " 

"  Yes.  How  well  you  recollect  every  yard  of  the 
ground ! " 

"  How  did  you  come  to  locate  the  lost  seam  there  ?  " 

"  By  sheer  chance.  Some  pieces  of  the  granite  wall 
fell  away,  and  any  miner  who  had  been  a  week  at  his 
trade  would  have  recognized  the  vein  then." 

"  When  did  they  fall  away — the  bits  of  rock, 
I  mean?  " 

"  It  must  have  been  about  the  time  you — you  were 
married,  Mrs.  Marten." 

She  tapped  a  satin-shod  foot  emphatically  on  the 
boarded  floor.  "  Why  are  you  calling  me  '  Mrs.  Mar- 
ten '?  "  she  demanded. 

"  Well " 

"  Don't  do  it  again.     I  am  *  Nancy  '  to  you,  Derry. 


100  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

I  refuse  to  part  with  the  privileges  of  friendship  in 
that  casual  way.  But  I  want  to  understand  things 
more  closely.     What  caused  the  stones  to  fall?  " 

"  I  don't  mind  telling,"  he  said,  "  though  a  good 
many  people  have  asked  me  the  history  of  El  Pre90,  and 
I  have  refused  hitherto  to  gratify  their  curiosity " 

"  El  Pre^o — doesn't  that  mean  *  the  price  '.?  " 

"  Yes." 

"What  an  extraordinary  name!  The  price  of 
what.? " 

"  Of  my  broken  leg.  There,  you  see !  King  Charles's 
head  once  more." 

She  paused,  ever  so  briefly,  before  resuming  her 
questioning.    "  Now,  why  did  the  stones  fall  ?  " 

"  Because  an  excited  cowboy  fired  his  revolver  in 
the  air,  and  the  bullets  struck  a  section  of  rock  which 
required  some  such  shock  to  dislodge  it." 

"  But  how  did  that  afFect  you?  " 

"  I  happened  to  be  lying  on  the  very  ledge  you  spoke 
of,  and — oh,  dash  it  all!  I  secured  my  limp  then  and 
there." 

"  Did  the  fall  disturb  a  rattlesnake?  " 

"  It  may  have  disturbed  a  dozen  rattlesnakes,  for  all 
that  I  can  tell.  But  what  an  extraordinary  thing  to 
say!  Did  you  know  that  a  rattler  lived  in  that 
cleft?  " 

"  No.  I  was  just  thinking  of  the  Gulch  and  its 
inhabitants.  Perhaps  my  wits  were  wandering.  .  .  . 
Come,  Derry.  Our  half-hour  is  not  gone,  but  we  can 
talk  on  the  way.  Send  a  boy  for  my  carriage.  Do 
you  want  your  hat  and  coat?  " 

She  rose  suddenly,  and  drew  a  light  wrap  of  silvery 


The  Meeting  101 

tissue  around  her  shoulders.  Power  stood  up,  and  faced 
her.  He  had  never  seen  her  looking  so  ethereally  beau- 
tiful, not  even  on  the  night,  now  so  long  ago,  when 
he  parted  from  her  before  taking  that  disastrous  jour- 
ney to  Sacramento. 

"  Do  you  really  think  I  ought  to  come  with  you  to 
Mrs.  Van  Ralten's  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Of  course.    Why  not.''    You  are  invited." 

"  But " 

"  You  are  my  big  brother  from  Bison,  Derry,  and 
I'm  not  going  to  forgo  the  pleasure  of  your  company 
if  all  Newport  lined  the  road  and  bawled,  *  Send  him 
away ! '  But  do  hurry.  Mary  Van  Ralten  will  for- 
give everything  except  unpunctuality." 

The  nebulous  protest  on  Power's  lips  faded  into 
silence.  "  On  such  a  night  I  can  dispense  with  hat  and 
overcoat,"  he  said.  "  Your  carriage  is  a  closed  landau, 
I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Yes.  After  the  play  you  can  escort  me  to  the 
Breakers — that  is  the  name  of  the  house  we  have  rented 
— and  Sam,  our  coachman,  will  take  you  home.  .  .  . 
Oh,  there  he  is,  waiting.  Mrs.  Van  Ralten's, 
Sam." 

"  Yes,  Ma'am,"  said  the  negro,  who  had  brought  a 
carriage  and  pair  to  the  doorway  when  he  caught  sight 
of  his  mistress.  A  negro  footman  opened  the  door,  and 
Nancy  entered,  the  brilliant  moonlight  gleaming  for 
an  instant  on  the  sheen  of  a  white  silk  stocking.  Power 
seated  himself  by  her  side,  and  the  horses  dashed  off. 
He  felt  the  soft  folds  of  her  dress  touching  him.  When 
she  turned  slightly  to  say  something  about  the  mar- 
velous nights  which  tempered  the  heat-wave  at  New- 


102  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

port,  her  right  shoulder  and  elbow  pressed  him  closely. 
Some  subtle  fragrance  came  from  her  that  stirred  him 
almost  to  a  frenzy  of  longing;  yet  he  dared  not  flinch 
away  into  a  corner  of  the  carriage.  Perforce,  he 
schooled  his  voice  to  utter  the  platitudes  of  the  mo- 
ment. Yes,  he  had  been  in  Newport  three  whole  days, 
and -had  not  the  remotest  notion  that  she  was  there.  He 
had  come  to  buy  horses,  and  might  remain  another 
week.  Well,  he  would  remain,  now  that  they  had  met ; 
for  he  was  sure  he  would  find  a  good  deal  to  tell  her 
of  Bison  and  its  folk  once  he  had  got  over  the  nov- 
elty and  unexpectedness  of  this  meeting. 

And  all  the  time  his  heart  was  pounding  madly,  throb- 
bing so  furiously  that  he  feared  lest  she  should  become 
aware  of  its  lack  of  restraint,  and  he  stooped  forward 
in  a  make-believe  glance  at  some  building  they  were 
passing. 

"  That  is  the  Casino,"  she  said,  misinterpreting  his 
action,  or  pretending  to — Heaven  alone  knows  the  ex- 
tent of  a  woman's  divination  where  a  man  is  concerned ! 
"  We  play  tennis  there,  in  the  evenings,  when  it's 
so  hot  during  the  day.  Are  you  a  tennis-player, 
Derry?  .  .  .  Oh,  I'm  sorry!     I  quite  forgot." 

"  I  have  been  arousing  your  sympathy  by  false  pre- 
tense," he  said,  and  the  laughter  in  his  voice  demanded 
a  real  effort.  "  I  can  walk  and  ride  and  jump  and 
dance  as  well  as  ever,  and  I  have  taught  three  of  the 
ranchmen  to  play  tennis  quite  creditably.  So,  if 
the  Newport  stores  run  to  flannels  and  rubtier 
shoes " 

"  Derry,"  she  cooed,  "  you  are  not  such  a  fraudu- 
lent person  as  you  imagine.     If  you  knew  how  much 


The  3Ieeting  103 

you  have  told  me  tonight  about  yourself,  you  would 
be  awfully  surprised,  as  they  say  in  London.  But  here 
we  are  at  Mrs.  Van  Ralten's.  Now,  be  nice  to  every- 
body ;  for  I  mean  you  to  have  a  real  good  time  in  New- 
port. People  here  can  be  very  pleasant  acquaintances 
if  you  take  them  the  right  way." 


CHAPTER  VII 
THE  FORTY  STEPS 

During  the  next  few  days  Power  passed  impercep- 
tibly through  many  phases  of  thought  and  emotion. 
When  his  judgment  regained  its  natural  equipoise  after 
the  first  bitter-sweet  intoxication  of  finding  his  old 
sweetheart  desirous  as  ever  of  his  companionship,  he 
appeared  to  subside  into  a  state  of  placid  acceptance 
of  such  restricted  blessings  as  the  gods  could  offer. 
Nancy  made  good  her  promise,  and  Newport  society 
threw  wide  its  doors  to  the  good-looking  and  well- 
mannered  visitor.  No  doubts  were  raised  concerning 
his  financial  or  social  status.  A  word  from  the  horse- 
fancying  judge  made  it  clear  that  the  Westerner  could 
not  be  a  poor  man,  seeing  that  he  had  already  bought 
at  stiff  prices  a  magnificent  hunter  and  the  best-matched 
pair  of  hackneys  in  the  States,  and  was  in  treaty  for  an- 
other round  dozen  of  valuable  animals  ;  while  Mrs.  Hugh 
Marten's  manifest  approval  was  sufficient  to  introduce 
any  similarly  favored  young  man  to  the  most  exclusive 
circle  in  the  island. 

Seeing  that  certain  things  were  essential.  Power  spent 
money  freely,  supplying  himself  with  a  dog-cart,  a 
groom,  a  valet,  and  the  rest  of  the  equipment  which 
any  man  needed  who  would  mix  in  that  fashionable 
crowd  without  attracting  attention  by  lack  of  it.  Each 
morning  he  and  Nancy,  sometimes  unaccompanied,  but 

104 


The  Forty  Steps  105 

more  often  mingling  with  a  lively  party,  rode  about 
the  island,  following  rough  tracks  which  are  smooth 
roads  nowadays,  and  visiting  every  favorite  stretch 
of  clifF  and  open  country  time  and  again.  When  the 
weather  moderated  its  torrid  rigor,  and  sports  became 
possible  in  the  grounds  of  the  Casino  or  within  the 
Polo  Club's  inclosure,  he  bore  his  full  share.  In  all 
that  pertained  to  horsemanship  he  was  the  equal  of  any 
man  in  Newport,  and  Nancy  had  not  lost  that  perfect 
confidence  in  the  saddle  which  life  on  a  ranch  demands. 
Someone  gave  prizes  for  a  drag  hunt,  a  hunting  crop 
for  the  first  man  and  a  silver  cup  for  the  first  woman 
in  at  the  finish  of  a  ten-miles'  trail,  and  the  two  came 
in  side  by  side,  a  furlong  ahead  of  their  closest  fol- 
lower. Luncheons,  yachting  parties,  dinners,  musi- 
cales,  and  dances  crowded  each  day  and  often  went  far 
into  the  night.  The  heat-wave  had  put  forward  the 
almanac,  and  the  Newport  season  was  in  full  swing 
nearly  a  month  in  advance  of  its  usual  date. 

Power  retained  his  rooms  at  the  Ocean  House;  but 
saw  little  of  other  inmates  of  the  hotel  unless  they 
happened  to  mix  in  the  same  set.  His  friends  of  the 
dinner-table,  except  Dacre,  had  gone,  and  the  English- 
man, like  Power,  was  made  an  honorary  member  of  the 
Casino  Club;  so  they  kept  up  and  developed  an  ac- 
quaintance which  had  begun  so  pleasantly. 

The  close  intimacy  between  Mrs.  Marten  and  the 
stranger  from  Colorado  attracted  slight  comment.  No 
breath  of  scandal  fluttered  the  dovecotes  of  Newport. 
The  behavior  of  the  pair  was  exemplary,  and,  beyond 
the  accepted  fact  that,  if  any  hostess  desired  the  pres- 
ence of  one  she  must  invite  the  other,  gossip  about  them 


106  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

was  noticeable  by  its  absence.  Their  mutual  use  of 
Christian  names  from  the  outset  established  a  tacit 
cousinship,  and  the  only  growl  uttered  behind  their 
backs  was  an  occasional  complaint  from  some  anxious 
mother  who  found  her  attractive  daughters  completely 
eclipsed,  in  the  eyes  of  at  least  one  eligible  young  man, 
by  the  millionaire's  wife. 

Once,  and  once  only,  before  the  crash  came,  did 
Nancy  allude  to  the  purloined  letters.  She  and  Power 
were  riding  along  the  Cliff  Walk  before  breakfast,  when 
she  broached  the  subject  quite  unexpectedly. 

"  Derry,  I  want  to  ask  you  something,"  she  said 
seriously.  "  Did  my  father  and  you  ever  quarrel  with- 
out my  knowledge — before  I  left  Bison,  I  mean?  " 

«  No,"  he  said. 

*'  Don't  be  stupid !  I  hate  answers  in  monosyllables. 
When  you  say  no  like  that,  one  suspects  that  it  may 
really  be  a  kind  of  yes." 

"  Then  let  me  make  it  the  most  definite  sort  of  nega- 
tive. Remember,  you  fixed  a  period.  The  last  time  I 
spoke  to  Mr.  Willard  before  I  was — before  I  went  to 
Sacramento — I  had  supper  at  the  ranch." 

He  carried  reminiscence  no  farther.  She  stole  a 
look  at  him;  but  his  eyes  were  fixed  on  a  faint  blur 
of  smoke  rising  over  the  azure  plain  of  the  Atlantic 
from  an  invisible  steamship.  On  that  unforgetable 
night  of  three  and  a  half  years  ago,  a  starlit  night  of 
spring,  she  had  walked  with  him  to  the  mouth  of  the 
Gulch,  and  in  bidding  each  other  farewell  they  had 
exchanged  their  first  and  last  kiss. 

"  Father  was  certainly  not  an  enemy  of  yours  then," 
she  went  on,  in  a  singularly  even  tone.     Indeed,  she 


The  Forty  Steps  107 

might  have  been  debating  a  matter  of  utmost  triviality. 
"  It  seemed  to  me  that  he  always  welcomed  you  at  the 
ranch.  Why  did  he  become  so  bitterly  opposed  to  you 
afterward?  " 

He  could  have  fenced  with  her,  but  deemed  it  prefer- 
able to  speak  freely.  "  I  think  he  was  annoyed  by  my 
rapid  success,"  he  said.  "  He  had  made  a  failure  of 
things  generally,  and  I  candidly  admit  it  must  have  been 
exasperating  to  see  a  youngster  like  me,  and  a  steady- 
going  fossil  like  Mac,  step  in  and  secure  a  fortune  out 
of  a  place  where  he  had  met  with  nothing  but  ill-luck. 
Those  who  get  rich  quick  often  incur  animosity  in  that 
way." 

For  a  brief  space  there  was  silence.  They  seemed 
to  be  listening  to  the  slumberous  plash  of  the  break- 
ers on  the  rocks  far  below,  which,  with  the  pleasant 
creaking  of  saddlery,  and  the  hoofbeats  and  deep 
breathing  of  eager  horses  held  in  restraint,  were  the 
only  sounds  audible  in  that  wondrous  solitude.  They 
were  passing  a  part  of  the  cliff  known  as  the  Forty 
Steps,  a  euphonious  name  describing  a  series  of  railed 
staircases,  cut  in  the  solid  rock,  which  afforded  an  ir- 
regular if  safe  passage  to  the  beach.  Ochre  Point, 
with  its  millionaire  residences,  lay  a  mile,  or  less,  in 
front,  and  on  their  left  was  the  illimitable  ocean.  After 
a  bath  and  breakfast  they  had  promised  to  join  a  large 
party  on  a  steam  yacht  bound  for  Narragansett  Pier, 
when  luncheon  and  a  picnic  at  a  lighthouse  would  fill 
the  afternoon.  This  day  was  precisely  similar  to  any 
other  day  of  a  whole  fortnight  in  its  round  of  amuse- 
ments. The  weather  was  nearly  perfection,  and  dis- 
tinctly unsuited  for  a  heart-searching  discussion;  but 


108  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

Nancy  seemed  to  be  in  a  mood  that  either  invited  self- 
torture  or  wished  to  witness  the  writhings  of  her  com- 
panion, because  she  would  not  leave  a  difficult  subject 
alone. 

"  Supposing,  Derry,"  she  continued,  "  supposing  I 
hadn't  got  married  when  I  did,  do  you  think  you  would 
have  discovered  the  mine  just  the  same?  " 

Now  he  was  compelled  to  go  off  at  a  tangent.  "  You 
resemble  the  majority  of  your  sex  in  your  desire  to 
raise  non-existent  bogies  for  the  mere  pleasure  of  slay- 
ing them,"  he  began. 

"  Which  is  the  bogy — my  supposition  or  the  mine?  " 
she  broke  in. 

"  How  can  I  imagine  what  would  have  happened  in 
circumstances  which  did  not  take  place?  The  discov- 
ery, or  rediscovery,  of  the  mine  was  one  of  those  ex- 
traordinary bits  of  good  luck  which  Fortune  sometimes 
thrusts  upon  her  favorites.  It  might  have  occurred  if 
you  had  never  left  Bison;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  it 
might  not." 

She  nodded  her  complete  agreement.  By  not  answer- 
ing he  had  answered  fully. 

"  Yes,  the  godd/sss  was  certainly  kind  to  you,"  she 
said.  "  The  cowboys  did  not  often  ride  through  the 
Gulch  firing  their  revolvers.  In  fact,  the  only  time  I 
can  recall  any  such  riotous  proceeding  was  on  the  day 
of  my  wedding.    That  must  have  been  your  lucky  day." 

She  watched  him  closely ;  but  his  face  showed  no  sign 
of  emotion.  Yet  she  was  sure  that  his  eyes  narrowed 
somewhat  as  they  continued  to  search  the  horizon, 
and  his  lips  were  set  with  a  dourness  hardly  warranted 
by  an  enjoyable  ride  on  a  carefree  morning. 


The  Forty  Steps  109 

Then  she  smiled,  very  slightly,  as  though  she  was 
well  pleased.  She  was  not  cruel;  but  any  woman  who 
wants  to  assure  herself  that  a  man  loves  her  will  un- 
derstand why  Nancy  Marten  was  putting  Power  on  the 
rack,  and  even  tightening  the  cords  almost  beyond 
endurance. 

"  I'm  sorry  if  I  have  worried  you,  Derry,"  she  said, 
with  a  tender  caress  in  her  voice  that  in  no  wise  helped 
to  mitigate  his  suffering.  "  One  more  question,  and 
I  have  done.  Have  you  told  your  mother  that  I  am 
here?" 

There  was  no  help  for  it.    He  lied  boldly. 

"  Yes,"  he  said. 

"What  did  she  say?" 

"  I  am  expecting  her  reply  any  hour." 

"And  Mac?     Did  you  give  him  my  love?" 

"  I  haven't  written  to  Mac  since  I  came  to  Newport ; 
but  I  shall  not  omit  a  word  of  your  message  when  I 
see  him,  or  write,  whichever  comes  first.  .  .  .  Have  you 
any  idea  what  time  it  is  ?  " 

"  Time  these  lazy  gees  were  stirring  themselves. 
Come,  Hector!" 

She  shook  the  reins  on  her  horse's  neck,  and  the  big 
hunter  jumped  off  in  a  fast  canter.  Power  raced  along- 
side, and  the  two  struck  into  a  byroad  leading  to  Belle- 
vue  Avenue.  Power  was  busying  his  brain  to  formulate 
some  colorless  phrase  which  would  supply  a  natural- 
sounding  comment  by  his  mother  on  the  fact  that  he 
had  encountered  an  old  friend  in  Newport.  He  knew 
well  that  he  dared  not  tell  her;  for  the  tidings  would 
distress  her  immeasurably.  But  he  need  not  have  trou- 
bled himself.    Nancy  never  mentioned  the  matter  again, 


110  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

for  the  very  convincing  reason  that  she  did  not  believe 
him.  Her  allusion  to  Mrs.  Power  was  one  last  turn 
of  the  screw.  She  was  as  certain  that  he  could  no 
more  explain  her  presence  to  his  mother  than  she  could 
explain  his  to  her  father.  Twice  had  she  written  his 
name  in  letters  to  Denver,  and  twice  had  she  destroyed 
the  letter.  On  the  night  she  met  Power  she  had  dashed 
pfF  a  hot  and  impetuous  note  asking  Willard  why 
Derry's  letters  had  been  withheld ;  but,  in  calmer  mood, 
this  dangerous  query  was  given  to  the  flames.  On  a 
second  occasion,  about  a  week  later,  Power's  name  crept 
inadvertently  into  a  description  of  some  incident  at 
the  Casino,  and  the  warm  blood  rushed  to  her  face  and 
neck  when  she  found  how  near  she  was  to  committing 
the  letter  to  the  post  without  having  read  it. 

All  that  day  Power  was  puzzled  by  a  new  serenity 
shining  In  Nancy's  eyes.  He  could  not  guess  that,  more 
candidly  analytical  than  he,  she  had  looked  fearlessly 
into  the  future  and  had  discounted  its  agonies.  She 
felt  now  that  she  had  been  tricked  into  a  loveless  mar- 
riage ;  that  Marten  had  purchased  her  with  exactly  the 
same  cold  calculation  of  values  which  he  would  have 
applied  to  a  business  undertaking.  Willard  had  proved 
as  potter's  clay  in  his  hands,  and  every  turn  and^twist 
of  the  project  was  clear  to  her  vision  as  though  her 
husband,  yielding  to  sardonic  impulse,  had  set  forth  the 
unsavory  story  in  black  and  white.  But  it  was  one 
thing  to  recognize  how  she  had  been  duped,  and  an- 
other to  strike  out  boldly  for  instant  freedom.  And 
in  that  respect  the  woman  was  braver  than  the  man. 
Power  was  content  to  live  in  the  golden  present,  to 
stifle  the  longings  and  plaints  of  silent  hours;  while 


The  Forty  Steps  111 

the  woman  who  loved  him  thought  only  of  the  end  she 
now  held  firmly  in  view  and  recked  little  of  the  means 
whereby  that  end  might  be  achieved. 

Their  unhappy  plight  was  intensified  by  the  fact  that 
their  characters  had  deepened  and  broadened  alike  dur- 
ing the  years  of  separation.  The  boy  and  girl  attach- 
ment of  those  heedless  days  in  Colorado  might  not  have 
withstood  the  strain  of  being  thrown  together  again 
constantly  after  so  long  an  interval,  if  the  woman's  na- 
ture had  not  advanced  step  by  step  with  the  man's.  Ex- 
perience of  life,  and  the  educative  influences  of  foreign 
travel  and  good  society,  had  done  for  Nancy  what  quiet 
study  and  seclusion  from  his  fellow-men  had  done  for 
Power.  By  such  widely  diff^erent  paths  they  had 
reached  a  common  standard  of  earnest  purpose  and 
high  resolve,  and  Nancy,  at  any  rate,  was  passionately 
determined  not  to  sacrifice  the  remainder  of  her  youth 
because  of  the  unhallowed  compact  which  sold  her  to 
gilded  misery  and  robbed  her  of  her  one  true  mate 
in  all  the  world. 

As  she  did  not  blink  the  consequences,  there  remained 
but  to  carry  through  her  desperate  scheme  as  speedily 
and  quietly  as  was  compatible  with  no  risk  of  failure. 
Her  one  difficulty  lay  with  Power  himself.  She  had 
first  to  break  down  his  sense  of  honor,  a  task  which 
could  be  accomplished  only  by  making  him  see  clearly 
that  her  life's  happiness  was  at  stake.  And  she  knew 
him,  oh,  so  well — far  better  than  he  knew  himself !  Let 
Derry  once  find  tears  in  her  eyes,  tears  which  he  alone 
could  dispel,  and  the  seeming  fortress  of  his  self- 
control  would  crumble  into  dust.  Let  her  once  twine 
her  arms  around  him,  and  what  man-made  laws  would 


112  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

wrench  them  apart?  For,  by  her  reasoning,  the  sol- 
emn ordinances  which  govern  frail  human  nature  were 
wholly  on  her  side.  If  marriage  were,  indeed,  a  divine 
institution,  its  very  essence  was  profaned  when  Hugh 
Marten  laid  his  sorry  plan  and  made  it  effective  by 
sheer  force  of  money.  She,  the  woman,  would  be  called 
on  to  pay  for  her  liberty  in  the  coin  minted  of  ill- 
repute,  that  base  metal  for  whose  currency  her  sex  was 
mainly  responsible.  But  those  friends  whom  she  valued 
would  hear  the  truth,  and  they  would  rally  round  her, 
never  fear!  Why,  in  this  delightful  island,  where  pain 
and  anguish  seemed  to  be  banished  by  the  imperious 
ukase  of  deities  presiding  over  the  revels  of  the  rich,  peo- 
ple recognized  as  leaders  of  society  had  passed  already 
through  a  furnace  of  scandal  and  scathing  exposure 
such  as  she  and  her  lover  would  never  be  called  upon 
to  face. 

And  that  was  why  Power  was  at  once  bewildered 
and  raised  to  the  seventh  heaven  by  her  confident,  con- 
tented smile  when  they  met  among  the  crowd  of  merry- 
makers on  the  yacht,  or  exchanged  a  few  common- 
place words  when  doing  the  round  of  Narragansett 
Bay  and  at  dinner  that  evening  in  one  of  Newport's 
summer  palaces. 

As  his  dog-cart  was  in  waiting,  he  had  no  excuse 
to  escort  her  home,  but,  in  saying  goodnight,  she  con- 
trived again  to  perplex  and  delight  him  by  a  whis- 
pered request. 

"  Derry,"  she  murmured,  "  make  no  outside  engage- 
ment for  tomorrow  evening.  If  you  are  already 
booked  up,  cry  off.  I  want  to  dine  with  you  in  some 
quiet   place — ^I   suppose  there  is   some   hotel  or  cafe 


The  Forty  Steps  113 

in  Newport  where  none  of  our  friends  go.  Find  out, 
and  send  me  a  note,  telling  me  the  time  and  place.  I 
shall  come  in  a  hired  carriage,  and  quietly  dressed — 
not  in  dinner  clothes,  I  mean — and  you  must  do  the 
same.  I  must  have  a  long  talk  with  you,  wholly  inde- 
pendent of  our  servants,  you  understand." 

"  I  shall  obey,  at  any  rate,"  he  said,  with  a  smile 
that  failed  to  conceal  the  unbounded  surprise  in  his 
eyes.     "  May  I  put  a  question?  " 

"  No,  not  now.  Full  details  later,  as  people  say  in 
telegrams." 

They  parted,  and  he  was  so  plagued  by  foreboding 
that  he  would  have  driven  past  the  Ocean  House  had 
not  the  horse  turned  in  at  the  gateway  of  its  own 
accord.  If  Nancy's  manner  during  the  day  had  shown 
the  least  trace  of  worry  or  annoyance,  he  would  have 
attributed  her  strange  request  to  a  desire  to  take  him 
into  her  confidence.  It  was  possible,  for  instance,  that 
some  busybody  had  warned  her  that  a  too  marked  pref- 
erence for  the  society  of  one  man  among  the  many 
in  Newport  would  probably  reach  her  husband's  ears; 
but,  in  that  event,  her  outraged  pride  could  never  have 
been  veiled  by  such  a  mask  of  unsullied  cheerfulness. 
If  any  more  drastic  explanation  of  the  next  day's  meet- 
ing suggested  itself  to  his  troubled  mind,  he  crushed 
it  resolutely.  In  his  present  mood,  the  slightest  hint 
of  scandal  associated  with  Nancy's  winsome  person- 
ality due  to  their  friendship  was  anathema.  He  would 
have  endured  any  loss,  fortune,  even  life  itself,  to  save 
her  name  from  besmirchment. 

When  he  alighted  from  the  dog-cart  he  knew  it  was 
useless  to  try  and  sleep;  so  he  lit  a  cigar,  and  sat  in 


114  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

a  remote  corner  of  the  veranda.  Then  he  began  seri- 
ously to  analyze  her  words.  They  were  to  meet  in 
clandestine  fashion;  not  actually  in  the  garments  of 
disguise,  but  at  a  rendezvous  so  remote  from  the  fre- 
quenters of  the  Casino  as  to  run  small  risk  of  being 
identified.  She  would  drive  thither  in  a  "  hired  car- 
riage," and  he  was  to  leave  his  dog-cart  and  groom 
at  home.  Moreover,  she  inferred  that  he  would  not 
see  her  until  the  evening,  since  the  locality  of  this  diner 
a  deux  was  to  be  written ;  though  they  had  hardly  been 
separated  by  longer  intervals  than  a  couple  of  hours 
between  seven  o'clock  in  the  morning  and  nearly  mid- 
night during  each  day  of  a  fortnight.  What  did  it  all 
portend?  Was  this  to  be  their  last  meeting?  At  that 
thought  a  fierce  pain  gripped  him,  and  he  was  sorely 
tempted  to  call  the  gods  to  witness  that  he  would  not 
return  to  a  lifetime  of  wandering  in  the  wilderness. 
Yet,  said  a  still,  small  voice  within,  was  it  not  bet- 
ter so?  She  was  another  man's  wife.  He  must  re- 
member that,  remember  it  even  when  his  pent-up  pas- 
sions stormed  the  citadel  of  his  conscience,  remember 
it  when  the  sheer  fragrance  of  her  maddened  his  senses, 
remember  it  when  the  taste  of  Dead  Sea  fruit  was  bit- 
terest in  his  mouth.  Of  what  worth  was  he  if,  for  her 
dear  sake,  he  was  not  strong  in  knightly  resolve?  And 
how  could  he  ever  again  dare  to  receive  his  mother's 
kiss  if  he  betrayed  the  trust  which  she,  at  least,  re- 
posed in  him? 

A  mournful  and  depressing  reverie  was  disturbed  by 
the  arrival  of  a  carriage  at  the  porch.  Four  young 
people  alighted — two  honeymoon  couples  they  were  sup- 
posed to  be — and  their  lively  voices  seemed  to  ring 


The  Forty  Steps  115 

the  knell  of  his  wrecked  existence.  He  listened,  only 
half  hearing,  while  they  chattered  like  magpies. 

They  had  been  to  a  dance  at  the  Casino,  and  their 
broken  comments  told  of  a  jolly  evening,  a  capital  band, 
the  best  floor  that  ever  was  laid,  some  wonderful  dresses, 
and  an  unexcelled  supper.  Similar  young  people  were 
telling  each  other  exactly  the  same  inane  commonplaces 
all  over  the  eastern  part  of  America  at  that  hour,  and 
similar  cackle  would  girdle  the  earth  till  the  crack 
of  doom.  Probably  the  men  were  wise  as  he,  and  the 
women  might  be  deemed  by  their  swains  pretty  as 
Nancy;  yet  some  malign  despot  among  the  powers 
which  control  poor  humanity  had  decreed  that  he  alone 
should  never  know  these  frivolous  moments,  never  be 
granted  these  breathing-spaces  of  mild  abandonment. 
And  so,  wroth  with  himself,  and  vexed  with  the  sorry 
scheme  of  things,  he  went  to  his  rooms. 

Next  morning,  to  make  sure,  he  rode  to  Nancy's 
house.  No;  Mrs.  Marten  had  not  ordered  her  horse; 
in  fact,  she  had  not  appeared  as  yet,  and  the  pleasant- 
spoken  butler,  showing  the  requisite  confidence  in  the 
discretion  of  a  recognized  friend,  added  that  his  mis- 
tress would  not  be  "  at  home "  to  anyone  before 
luncheon. 

Then,  the  weather  being  glorious  and  the  air  like 
champagne.  Power  whistled  care  to  the  devil,  and  can- 
tered into  the  town  to  review  the  ground  for  the  night's 
fixture. 

Newport  today  boasts  of  almost  uncountable  hotels 
and  boarding-houses,  nor  was  the  area  of  choice  limited 
in  that  respect  nearly  a  generation  ago.  After  care- 
ful scrutiny  of  various  buildings  in  the  business  quar- 


116  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

ter,  Power  selected  a  cafe  run  by  a  certain  Giovanni 
Pestalozzi  as  the  most  promising.  It  looked  clean  and 
bright,  and  an  Italian  might  be  trusted  to  be  discreet. 

Getting  a  man  to  hold  his  horse,  he  interviewed 
Giovanni,  and  was  assured  that  Delmonico's  itself  could 
not  produce  a  better  meal  if  the  signor  Invited  com- 
parison. The  signor  wanted  nothing  elaborate,  how- 
ever. He  admitted  he  was  not  well  versed  In  either 
menus  or  wines,  but  demanded  the  best,  and,  after  in- 
specting a  well-furnished  room  overlooking  the  street, 
lodged  a  ten-dollar  bill  as  earnest  money,  with  a  prom- 
ise of  ample  largess  If  he  were  pleased.  Then  he  rode 
away  to  the  Ocean  House,  sent  a  note  to  Nancy,  and 
received  a  reply  which  deepened  his  mystified  dismay. 

For  she  wrote: 

"  Dear  Derry,  I  shall  be  there  at  seven-thirty.  Mean- 
while^ go  to  the  Casino,  and  tell  everybody  that  you  are 
summoned  to  New  York  on  business,  and  mean  to  leave 
either  tonight  by  the  Fall  River  steamer  or  by  first  train 
tomorrow.  You  are  traveling  by  the  train  to  oblige  me ; 
so  I  am  not  asking  you  to  indulge  in  polite  fiction. 

"  Yours  ever, 

"  Nancy." 

He  carried  out  instructions  to  the  letter,  and  was 
chaffed  mildly  for  deserting  the  place  just  as  his 
friends  were  getting  to  like  him.  It  was  easy  to  prom- 
ise a  speedy  return,  if  possible;  though  he  felt,  some- 
how, that  he  would  never  see  Newport  again.  The 
conclusion  of  his  horse-dealing  transactions  took  up 
a  good  deal  of  the  afternoon,  and,  to  his  regret,  Dacre 


The  Forty  Steps  117 

was  out  with  a  yachting  party;  so  he  left  a  hurriedly 
written  message  about  his  pending  departure. 

Then  he  strolled  out,  went  downtown  by  street  car, 
and  met  Nancy  when  she  alighted  from  a  rickety  cab 
at  the  door  of  Pestalozzi's  cafe.  She  wore  a  cream- 
tinted  dress,  and  her  piquant  features  were  daintily 
framed  in  a  big  Leghorn  hat.  It  pleased  him  to  find 
that  she  had  not  even  deigned  to  veil  her  face,  and  her 
cheerful  cry  of  recognition  showed  no  conscience- 
stricken  sense  of  guilt  because  of  a  meeting  which,  if 
known,  must  have  excited  the  suspicions  of  her  inti- 
mates. 

"  Ah,  there  you  are,  Derry  I  "  she  said.  "  Was  there 
ever  a  more  punctual  person?  Am  I  late?  I  had  such 
a  load  of  things  to  do  that  I  left  dressing  till  the  last 
moment.  Is  this  where  we  dine?  What  a  jolly  little 
cafe!  It  is  just  like  hundreds  of  such  establishments 
in  Rome  and  Naples.  I  suppose  these  Italian  res- 
taurateurs employ  their  fellow-countrymen  as  builders 
and  decorators ;  so  they  carry  their  architecture  and 
fittings  with  them." 

"  They  change  their  skies,  but  not  their  soups,"  said 
Power,  falling  in  with  her.  mood,  and  the  driver  of 
Nancy's  cab  recognized  the  adaptation  of  Horace's 
tag,  and  was  pleased  to  grin,  being  himself  a  broken- 
down  graduate  of  Harvard. 

Ushered  to  the  dining-room,  they  tackled  the  hors 
d^oeuvres  at  once,  and  Nancy  chatted  about  current 
events  with  the  tranquil  self-possession  she  would  have 
displayed  at  Mrs.  Van  Ralten's  dinner-table.  The  meal, 
excellently  cooked  and  deftly  served,  marched  to  its 
end  without  a  word  from  her  as  to  its  particular  pur- 


118  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

pose.  She  delighted  PestalozzI  by  taking  minute  in- 
structions for  the  preparation  of  an  exquisite  spaghetti, 
and  even  noted  the  brands  of  Italian  wines  which  should 
be  tabled  with  each  course.  At  half-past  eight,  when 
coffee  appeared,  she  rose: 

"  Pay  the  bill  now,  Derry,"  she  said.  "  We  must  be 
off  in  five  minutes,  and  I  am  sure  you  want  to  smoke 
at  least  one  cigarette  in  peace.  Perhaps  Signor  Pesta- 
lozzi  will  be  good  enough  to  order  a  cab?  " 

Signor  Pestalozzi  was  charmed,  and  decidedly  puz- 
zled. He  believed  for  many  a  year  that  those  two  had 
dined  at  his  cafe  for  a  wager.  If  any  doubter  scoffed, 
he  would  say,  with  appropriate  gesture: 

"  Sango  la  Madonna !  I  tella  you  he  no  squeeze-a  de 
gell,  not-ta  one  time ;  so,  if  dey  no  make-a  de  bet,  what-a 
for  he  give  'er  dat  pranzo  superbo  ?  " 

Really,  from  Giovanni's  point  of  view,  there  was  no 
answer. 

"  Tell  the  man  to  drive  us  to  the  Easton's  Beach  end 
of  the  Cliff  Walk,"  she  said  nonchalantly,  when  the  cab 
was  in  evidence,  and  away  they  went. 

"  There  is  no  moon ;  but  these  summer  nights  are 
never  quite  dark,"  she  began,  by  way  of  polite  con- 
versation. "  It  ought  to  be  restful  tonight  down  there 
by  the  Atlantic.  It  is  a  horrid  thing  to  confess,  but 
the  memories  of  Venice  which  are  most  vivid  in  my 
mind  are  not  connected  with  St.  Mark's  or  the  Doge's 
Palace,  but  center  round  just  such  a  night  as  this  on 
the  Lido.  Coming  back  in  the  gondola,  I  almost 
wanted  to  slip  over  the  side  into  the  still  waters,  and 
drift  away  to  the  unknown." 

"Do  we  swim  tonight,  then?"  he  asked. 


The  Forty  Steps  119 

It  was  a  relief  to  hear  his  own  voice  in  some  such 
apparently  light-hearted  quip.  The  cab  was  narrow, 
and  hung  on  indifferent  springs,  and  its  lurching  across 
the  roadway  to  avoid  other  vehicles  often  threw  him 
against  Nancy's  supple  body.  He  could  never  touch 
her  without  feeling  the  thrill  of  contact,  and,  fight 
as  he  would  against  it,  the  desire  to  clasp  her  in  his 
arms  and  stifle  her  protests  with  hot  kisses  would 
come  on  him  at  such  moments  with  an  almost  over- 
whelming ecstasy. 

"  If  I  led,  would  you  follow,  Derry?  "  she  whispered. 

Heaven  help  him,  it  seemed  as  though  she  was  nest- 
ling close  deliberately;  yet  he  refused  to  believe,  and 
strove  to  answer  with  a  jest. 

"  I  have  a  picture  of  you  and  me  striking  out  across 
the  bay  for  Narragansett,  like  a  pair  of  dolphins,"  he 
said. 

"  I  thought  of  you  that  night  on  the  Lido,"  she 
went  on,  unheeding.  "  I  imagined  then  that  when  you 
skipped  off  to  Sacramento  you  had  forgotten  the  lit- 
tle girl  of  the  Dolores  ranch.  At  any  rate,  such  was 
my  every-day  common-sense  sort  of  belief;  but  tucked 
away  in  some  cute  little  nerve  center  of  intuition  was 
another  notion,  which  told  me  that  we  had  been  driven 
apart  by  wicked  and  deceitful  contriving.  And  now, 
thank  my  stars,  I  know  that  my  subconscious  feeling 
was  right !  Oh,  Derry !  How  you  must  have  despised 
me!  What  if  we  had  not  met  for  many  a  year,  and 
you  had  schooled  yourself  into  real  forgetfulness,  and 
some  other  girl  had  crept  into  a  corner  of  your  heart, 
thrusting  out  poor  little  me  forever?  " 

The  gathering  gloom  without  had  now  made  the  cab's 


120  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

interior  so  dark  that  she  could  not  see  the  rigid  lines 
in  his  face,  nor  could  she  make  out  by  any  convulsive 
movement  that  his  hands  were  clenched,  and  that 
beads  of  perspiration  stood  on  his  forehead.  But  she 
knew,  yes,  she  knew,  and  timid  fingers  caught  his 
arm. 

"  You  are  not  to  think  me  mad  or  cruel  to  speak 
in  this  way,"  she  cooed.  "  I  have  looked  into  my  very 
soul,  Dear,  and  a  great  peace  has  come  from  my  self- 
communing.  You  have  wearied  your  clever  brain  with 
guesses  as  to  my  motive  in  meeting  you  tonight,  and 
I  giggled  like  a  schoolgirl  today  at  the  thought  of 
your  absolute  amazement  when  you  read  my  note  bid- 
ding you  prepare  to  leave  Newport.  But  it  is  all  part 
and  parcel  of  my  plan,  Derry,  which  rests  on  your 
reply  to  one  small  question.  Do  you  want  to  go  away 
from  me?  Are  you  ready  to  face  a  world  in  which 
there  will  be  no  Nancy,  never,  no  more .?  " 

"  Ah,  you  are  trying  me  beyond  endurance ! "  he  al- 
most sobbed. 

"  But  you  must  tell  me  that,  Derry.  I  have  gone 
a  long  way  daringly.  It  is  my  privilege,  my  right.  If 
you  love  me,  you  must  expect  it  of  me,  because,  as 
things  are,  I  am  forced  to  take  the  first  step.  But  a 
woman  must  be  sure  that  she  is  loved,  and  her  lover 
alone  can  still  her  doubts." 

An  impulse  stronger  than  his  own  strength  of  will 
brought  strange,  wild  words  to  his  dry  lips. 

"  Nancy,"  he  said,  with  the  calm  accents  of  despair, 
**  I  have  never  loved  any  woman  but  you,  and,  God 
willing,  I  never  shall !  " 

"  That  is  all  that  really  matters,"  she  sighed,  with 


The  Forty  Steps  121 

a  contented  note  in  her  voice  that  rang  in  his  ears 
like  a  chord  of  sweet  music  heard  from  afar  in  the 
depths  of  a  forest. 

After  that  they  sat  in  silence,  she  seemingly  wrapped 
in  dreams,  and  he  wandering  in  a  maze  wherein  im- 
passable walls  showed  no  gateway  of  escape;  though 
the  guarded  path  was  alluring,  and  the  air  was  heavy 
with  the  scent  of  flowers. 

The  cab  stopped,  and  they  alighted;  for  Nancy,  de- 
murely self-controlled,  announced  that  she  meant  to 
take  him  for  a  stroll  along  the  ClifF  Walk.  Power, 
deaf  and  blind  to  externals,  would  have  accompanied 
her  straightway;  but  she  laughingly  called  him  back 
from  the  clouds. 

"  Tell  the  cabman  to  wait,"  she  said,  "  and  give  him 
some  money,  or  the  poor  fellow  will  think  that  we  have 
come  this  long  way  from  town  purposely,  and  mean  to 
go  off  without  payment." 

He  handed  the  driver  a  subsidy  which  caused  the 
man  to  avow  his  willingness  to  wait  till  morning  if  nec- 
essary. Once  away  from  the  main  road,  and  with  no 
other  company  than  the  stars  and  the  sea,  Nancy  took 
her  escort's  arm,  and  kept  step  with  him. 

"  Now,"  she  said,  "  I'm  perversely  disinclined  to  dis- 
cuss personal  aff^airs  until  we  reach  a  certain  rock  at 
the  foot  of  the  Forty  Steps.  I  mean  to  sit  on  that 
rock,  and  you  will  curl  up  on  the  shingle  at  my  feet, 
and  light  a  nice-smelling  cigar,  and  listen  while  I  ex- 
plain the  method  in  my  madness  of  the  last  twenty-four 
hours.  But  I  cannot  arrange  my  thoughts  in  sequence 
till  we  are  settled  there  comfortably.  In  the  mean- 
time, I'll  make  you  acquainted  with  my  best  friend, 


122  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

the  Duchesse  de  Brasnes,  whom  you  will  meet  some 
day  in  Paris,  I  hope,  and  then  you  will  see  for  your- 
self some  of  her  delightful  eccentricities  which  I'll 
recount  to  you  now,  and  you  will  laugh  quietly  and  say, 
*  What  an  observant  little  person  that  Nancy  is !  Now, 
who'd  have  thought  she  could  quiz  and  con  a  great 
lady  of  the  Faubourg  so  accurately?  '  But  you're  not 
to  misunderstand  my  joking;  for  the  duchess  is  a  dear, 
and  I'm  very  fond  of  her." 

To  this  day  Power  has  never  recalled  a  single  syl- 
lable of  Nancy's  utterances  concerning  one  of  the  lead- 
ers of  Parisian  society.  All  that  he  Knew,  or  cared 
to  know,  was  that  the  voice  of  his  beloved  was  murmur- 
ing words  which  were  curiously  soothing  to  his  tingling 
nerves.  By  this  time  he  had  cast  scruples  to  the 
winds.  His  mind  was  armored  with  triple  steel  against 
any  other  consideration  than  that  Nancy  was  by  his 
side,  that  her  hand  rested  confidently  on  his  wrist, 
that  he  could  feel  her  slender  arm  warm  and  soft  near 
his  heart. 

And  the  supreme  moment  was  rushing  upon  him  with 
the  wings  of  love  on  a  summer's  night,  than  which  no 
flight  of  bird  is  so  swift  and  noiseless.  They  reached 
the  top  of  the  rocky  staircase,  and  began  to  descend. 
A  fairy  radiance  from  off  the  dark-blue  mirror  of  the 
Atlantic  made  plain  each  downward  step;  but  Nancy 
wore  the  high-heeled  shoes  which  women  affected  then 
more  generally  than  is  the  fashion  today,  and  Power 
held  her  hand  lest  she  slipped  and  fell.  Thus  they  made 
their  way  to  the  beach,  until  they  had  almost  nego- 
tiated the  last  short  flight.  Power,  indeed,  was  stand- 
ing on  the  shingle,  and  the  girl — for,  married  woman 


The  Forty  Steps  123 

though  she  was,  her  years  were  still  those  of  a  girl — 
was  poised  gracefully  on  the  lowermost  slab. 

There  she  hesitated  perceptibly.  His  eyes  met  hers 
in  a  subtle  underlook,  and  he  saw  that  her  face  was 
deathly  white.  Yet  there  was  neither  fear  nor  indeci- 
sion in  her  steadfast  glance.  Even  while  he  asked 
dumbly  why  she  waited,  her  lips  parted,  she  held  out 
her  hands  with  a  gesture  of  pleading,  and  she  mur- 
mured : 

"  Oh,  Derry,  my  own  dear  love,  it  is  not  the  first 
but  the  last  step  which  counts  now  I " 

Then  he  took  her  in  his  arms,  and  their  lips  met — and 
for  her  there  was  no  uncertainty  ever  more. 


CHAPTER  VIII 
THE  STEP  THAT  COUNTED 

Of  course,  being  a  woman,  she  made  believe  that 
he  had  taken  her  by  storm. 

"  Derry,  dear,  how  could  you?  "  she  gasped,  all  rosy 
and  breathless,  and  seemingly  much  occupied  in  smooth- 
ing her  ruffled  plumes  during  the  first  lull  after  the 
hurricane. 

"You  witch,  who  could  resist  you?"  he  muttered, 
showing  well-marked  symptoms  of  another  attack. 

"  No,  you'll  just  behave,  and  sit  exactly  where  I 
shall  point  out !  "  she  cried,  and  her  pouting  confidence 
gave  eloquent  testimony  to  the  passing  of  an  indelible 
phase  in  their  relations.     "  And  I  am  not  a  witch ;  but 

if  you  find  it  necessary  to  resist  me,  as  you  put  it 

Well,  there!  only  this  once.  We  TmLst  sit  down  and 
be  serious.  I  have  such  a  lot  to  say,  and  so  little  time 
in  which  to  say  it." 

The  new  note  struck  by.  the  unfettered  intimacy  of 
her  manner  exercised  an  influence  which  Power  would 
have  regarded  as  a  fantastic  impossibility  during  those 
moments  of  delirium  when  first  she  clung  to  him,  and 
both  were  shaken  by  irrepressible  tumult.  It  said,  far 
more  plainly  than  impassioned  speech,  that  she  had 
thrown  down  all  barriers,  that  she  had  counted  the  cost, 
and  was  giving  herself  freely  and  gladly  to  her  mate. 
The  recognition  of  this  supreme  surrender  by  a  proud 

124 


The  Step  That  Counted  125 

woman,  a  woman  to  whom  purity  of  thought  was  as 
the  breath  of  life,  administered  a  beneficial  shock  to 
his  sorely  tried  nerves.  Had  a  brilliant  meteor  flashed 
suddenly  through  space,  and  rushed  headlong  toward 
that  part  of  the  Atlantic  which  lapped  the  southern 
shore  of  Rhode  Island,  it  could  not  have  illuminated 
land  and  sea  with  more  incisive  clarity  than  did  Nancy's 
attitude  light  up  the  dark  places  of  his  mind.  Some 
stupendous  thing  had  happened  which  would  account 
for  this  miracle,  and  he  must  endeavor  to  understand. 
No  matter  what  the  effort  needed,  he  must  attend  to 
her  every  word.  In  his  inmost  heart  he  knew  that 
he  cared  not  a  jot  what  set  of  circumstances  had 
brought  about  a  development  which  he  had  not  dared 
to  dream  of.  He  recked  little  of  the  cause  now  that 
its  effect  was  graven  on  tablets  more  lasting  than  brass. 
But  it  was  due  to  Nancy  that  he  should  be  able  to  fol- 
low and  appreciate  her  motives.  He  held  fast  to  that 
thought  in  the  midst  of  a  vertigo.  A  waking  night- 
mare had  been  changed  in  an  instant  into  a  beatitude 
akin,  perilously  akin,  to  that  of  the  man  and  woman 
who  found  each  other  in  the  one  perfect  garden  which 
this  gray  old  world  has  seen,  and  no  darkling  vision 
of  desert  wastes  and  thorn-choked  paths  tortured  the 
happy  lovers  now  gazing  fearlessly  into  each  other's 
shining  eyes.  The  heritage  of  "  man's  first  disobedi- 
ence "  might  oppress  them  all  too  soon ;  but,  for  that 
night  at  least,  it  lay  hidden  behind  the  veil.  Exercising 
no  shght  command  on  his  self-control,  therefore.  Power 
strove  to  revert  to  the  well-ordered  coherency  of  speech 
and  action  which  he  had  schooled  himself  to  adopt 
when  in  Nancy's  presence. 


126  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

"  Forgive  me  if  I  have  seemed  rather  mad,"  he 
pleaded,  seating  himself  at  her  feet,  and  simulating  a 
calmness  which  resembled  the  placid  center  of  a  cyclone. 
"  During  three  long  years  I  have  hungered  for  the  taste 
of  your  lips.  Dear.  That  is  my  excuse,  and  it  should 
serve;  for  I  was  content  to  wait  as  many  decades  if 
Fate  kept  firm  in  her  resolve  to  deny  you  to  me." 

"  You  would  never  have  yielded  if  I  had  not  used 
a  woman's  guile?  "  she  said,  half  questioning  him,  half 
stating  a  truism  beyond  reach  of  argument. 

"  There  is  little  of  guile  in  your  nature,  Nancy." 

"Well,  I  think  that  is  true,  too;  but  it  is  equally 
true  that  a  woman  often  takes  what  I  may  call  a  saner 
view  of  life  than  a  man.  She  is  quicker  to  admit  the 
logic  of  accepted  facts.  If  you  discovered  that  some 
girl  had  won  by  false  pretense,  not  your  love,  for  love 
gilds  the  grossest  clay,  but  your  respect,  as  her  hus- 
band, you  would  not  spurn  her  with  the  loathing  I  feel 
now  for  the  man  who  made  me  his  wife.  For  that  is 
what  it  has  come  to.  I  refuse  to  pose  as  Hugh  Mar- 
ten's wife  in  the  eyes  of  the  world  one  moment  longer 
than  is  needful  to  obtain  my  freedom.  His  wife  I  have 
never  been  in  the  eyes  of  Heaven,  because  my  Heaven 
is  a  place  of  love  and  content,  and  I  have  neither  loved 
my  husband  nor  been  content  with  him,  not  for  a 
single  instant.  Our  marriage  began  with  a  lie,  and  has 
endured  on  a  basis  of  lies.  Such  contracts,  I  believe, 
are  void  in  law,  and  the  principle  which  governs  men 
in  business  should  at  least  apply  to  that  most  solemn 
of  all  engagements,  the  lifelong  union  of  husband  and 
wife.  Hugh  Marten  conspired  with  my  father — hired 
him,  I  might  rather  say — ^to  drive  you  and  me  apart, 


The  Step  That  Counted  127 

Derry.  The  stronger  and  more  subtle  brain  devised 
the  means,  and  left  it  to  the  weaker  one  to  carry  out 
the  scheme  in  sordid  reality.  As  for  me,  I  was  help- 
less as  a  caged  bird.  How  was  I  to  guess  that  Marten, 
whom  I  knew  only  as  the  owner  of  the  Bison  mines  and 
mills,  had  planned  my  capture?  Even  my  poor,  weak 
father  did  not  suspect  it  till  you  were  hundreds  of 
miles  away  in  California.  And  then  how  skilfully  was 
the  trap  baited,  and  how  swiftly  it  worked!  You  had 
not  reached  Sacramento  before  a  lawyer  wrote  from 
Denver  warning  my  father  that  the  mortgagees  were 
about  to  foreclose  on  the  ranch.  On  several  occasions 
previously  he  had  been  in  arrears  with  the  interest  on 
the  loan ;  but  they  had  always  proved  considerate,  and 
their  just  claims  were  met,  sooner  or  later.  Yet,  in 
a  year  when  scores  of  well-to-do  ranchers  were  pressed 
for  money,  and  when  clemency  became  almost  a  right, 
these  people  proved  implacable,  and  swooped  down  on 
him  like  a  hawk  on  a  crippled  pigeon.  .  .  .  Derry,  you 
bought  the  place — who  were  they?  " 

"  I  do  not  know.  I  dealt  through  a  lawyer,  and 
the  vendor  was  Mr.  Willard.  He  sold  the  property  free 
of  any  encumbrance." 

"  Yet  local  opinion  credited  you  and  Mac  with  be- 
ing a  shrewd  pair !  "  she  commented,  laughing  softly, 
as  if  she  were  reviewing  some  tragi-comedy  in  a  quiz- 
zical humor. 

"  We  certainly  wondered  why  Marten  made  things 
so  easy  for  us — in  other  respects,"  he  volunteered. 

"  Ah,  then,  you  did  have  a  glimmering  suspicion  of 
the  truth?  I  guessed  it;  though  I  could  not  be  abso- 
lutely certain  till  yesterday  morning,  when  Mr.  Benson 


128  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

refused  to  answer  my  pointblank  question.  He  would 
not  lie,  but  he  dared  not  tell  the  truth ;  so  he  fell  back 
on  the  feeble  subterfuge  that,  after  the  mighty  inter- 
val of  three  and  a  half  years,  he  could  not  recall  the 
exact  facts." 

"  Benson?    Did  you  write  to  him?  " 

The  surprise  in  Power's  voice  was  not  feigned.  He 
was  beginning  to  see  now  something  of  the  fixed  pur- 
pose which  had  governed  her  actions  during  the  past 
twenty-four  hours. 

"  Yes,"  she  said  composedly.  "  It  was  hardly  nec- 
essary, but  I  wanted  to  dispose  of  my  last  doubt ;  though 
in  my  own  mind  I  was  sure  of  the  ground  already. 
My  father  went  straight  to  Denver  on  receipt  of  that 
letter,  and,  of  course,  chanced  to  travel  by  the  same 
train  as  Hugh  Marten,  the  man  to  whom  the  whole 
amount  of  the  mortgage  was  little  more  than  a  day's 
income.  Marten  was  gracious,  the  lawyer-man  adamant. 
Within  a  week  I  was  told  of  a  new  suitor,  and  of  my 
father's  certain  and  complete  ruin  if  I  refused  him. 
.  ,  .  Ah,  me!  How  I  wept!  .  .  .  When  did  you  post 
your  first  letter,  Derry?  " 

"  Two  days  after  I  arrived  at  the  placer  mine,"  he 
replied  unhesitatingly.  The  chief  revelation  in  Nancy's 
story  was  her  crystal-clear  knowledge  of  facts  which, 
he  flattered  himself,  he  had  kept  from  her  ken.  Then 
his  heart  leaped  at  the  thought  that  she  had  known 
of  his  love  from  the  night  they  met  in  the  dining-room 
of  the  Ocean  House.  But  he  choked  back  the  rush  of 
sentiment ;  for  she  was  demanding  his  close  attention. 

"  And  I  wrote  on  or  about  that  same  date,"  she  went 
on.    "  My  father — Heaven  forgive  him ! — stole  your  let- 


The  Step  That  Counted  129 

ters  to  me;  but  the  scheme  for  suppressing  my  letters 
to  you  must  have  been  concocted  before  you  went  to 
Sacramento.  Such  foul  actions  are  unforgivable!  I, 
for  one,  refuse  to  be  bound  by  the  fetters  which  they 
forged.  I  come  to  you,  my  dear,  as  truly  your  wife, 
as  unstained  in  soul  and  body,  as  though  Hugh  Mar- 
ten had  never  existed !  " 

A  sudden  note  of  passion  vibrated  in  her  voice, 
and  Power  realized,  by  a  lightning  flash  of  intuition, 
with  what  vehement  decision  she  had  severed  already 
the  knot  which  seemed  to  bind  her  so  tightly.  He  fan- 
cied it  was  her  due  that  he  should  endeavor  to  relax 
an  emotional  strain  which  was  becoming  unbearable. 

"It's  a  mighty  good  thing  we  are  Americans,"  he 
said.  "  Here  divorce  is  neither  hard  to  obtain  nor 
highly  objectionable  in  its  methods.  We — at  any  rate, 
I — must  consult  some  lawyer  of  experience.  The  laws 
differ  in  the  various  states.  That  which  is  murder  and 
sudden  death  in  Ohio  is  a  five-dollar  proposition  in 
Illinois ;  but  the  legal  intellect  will  throw  light  on  our 
difficulty.    Meanwhile " 

He  stopped  awkwardy,  aware  that,  although  she  was 
apparently  listening  to  his  words,  they  were  making 
no  impression  on  her  senses.  A  sudden  silence  fell,  and 
the  hitherto  unheeded  noises  of  the  night  smote  on  his 
ears  with  uncanny  loudness.  The  leisured  plash  of 
waves  so  tiny  that  they  might  not  be  dignified  by  the 
name  of  breakers  swelled  into  a  certain  strength  and 
volume  as  his  range  of  hearing  spread,  and  the  faint 
cries  of  invisible  sea- fowl  now  jarred  loudly  on  the 
quietude  of  nature.  A  pebble  rolled  down  the  cliff, 
and   he   could   mark   its  constantly   accelerated   leaps 


130  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

until  it  reached  the  shingle  with  a  crash  which,  even 
to  a  case-hardened  pebble,  betokened  damage. 

"  Meanwhile "  prompted  Nancy,  in  a  still,  small 

voice. 

So  she  had  followed  what  he  was  saying.  What  was 
it  that  he  meant  to  say?  Something  about  the  rocks 
and  shoals  that  lay  ahead  before  he  could  take  her 
to  some  safe  anchorage.  Nevertheless,  he  shied  off 
at  a  tangent,  and  chose  haphazard  the  one  topic  which 
his  sober  judgment  might  have  avoided. 

"  I  was  about  to  utter  a  banal  remark ;  but  it  may 
as  well  be  put  on  record  and  dismissed,"  he  said.  "  It 
is  fortunate  that  I  am  a  rich  man.  Mere  weight  of 
money  can  achieve  nothing  against  us;  while  the  pos- 
session of  ample  means  will  simplify  matters  in  so 
far  as  we  are  concerned  personally." 

"  Were  those  really  the  words  on  the  tip  of  your 
tongue,  Derry  ?  " 

"  Well,  no,"  he  admitted. 

"  Are  you  afraid  of  hurting  my  feelings?  " 

**  You  are  right.  Dear.  As  between  you  and  me 
there  should  be  no  concealment.  We  have  to  face  the 
immediate  future.  We  must  consider  how  to  surmount 
the  interval,  short  though  it  may  be " 

"  Interval !    What  interval  ?  " 

"You  cannot  secure  a  divorce  without  some  sort 
of  legal  process,  and  the  law  refuses  to  be  hurried." 

"  Ah,  yes.  Divorce — law — they  are  words  which 
have  little  meaning  here  and  now." 

"  But  they  are  all-important.  Awhile  ago  you  spoke 
of  your  Paris  friends,  and  there  are  others,  like  Mrs. 
Van  Ralten,  whose  sympathies  and  help  will  be  of  real 


The  Step  That  Counted  181 

value  in  years  to  come.  You  see,  I  want  you  to  hold 
your  pretty  little  head  higher  as  Mrs.  John  Darien 
Power  than  you  ever  held  it  as  Mrs.  Hugh  Marten." 

"  That  will  cost  no  great  effort,  Derry.  If  we  have 
to  pass  through  an  ordeal  of  publicity,  we  can  surely 
use  the  vile  means  for  our  own  ends,  so  that  our  friends 
may  know  the  whole  truth.  .  .  .  Derry,  if  you  were  not 
such  a  good  and  honorable  man,  you  would  not  be  so 
dense." 

In  his  anxiety  to  follow  each  twist  and  turn  of  her 
reasoning  he  had  crept  nearer,  and  was  now  on  his 
knees,  having  imprisoned  her  hands  in  his,  and  peering 
intently  into  her  face.  In  that  dim  liglTl  her  eyes  shone 
like  faintly  luminous  twin  stars,  and  he  laughed  joy- 
ously when,  to  his  thinking,  he  had  solved  the  doubt 
that  was  troubling  her. 

"  If  it  will  help  any  that  all  the  world  should  know 
that  I,  the  aforesaid  John  Darien  Power,  have  been, 
and  am,  and  will  ever  remain  frantically  in  love  with 
a  lady  heretofore  described  as  Nancy  Willard,  I  shall 
nail  a  signed  statement  to  that  effect  on  the  Casino 
notice-board  tomorrow  morning,"  he  vowed. 

She  gently  released  her  hands,  placed  them  lovingly 
on  his  cheeks,  and  drew  him  close,  so  that  he  could  not 
choose  but  yield  to  any  demand  she  might  make. 

"  Derry,"  she  said,  kissing  him  with  that  soothing 
air  of  maternity  which  is  a  woman's  highest  endow- 
ment, "  though  I  am  going  to  say  something  dread- 
fully forward  and  bold,  I  shall  risk  all  lest  I  lose  you, 
and,  if  that  happens,  my  poor  heart  will  break  and  be 
at  rest  forever.  Even  now  you  do  not  see  whither  I 
am  leading  you.     You  never  would  see  unless  I  spoke 


132  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

plainly.  My  love  for  you  may  be  fierce  and  terrible; 
but  I  am  only  a  weak  woman,  a  woman  just  emerged 
from  girlhood,  and  I  want  to  be  saved  from  myself. 
If,  for  your  dear  sake,  I  am  to  cut  adrift  from  the 
past,  I  cannot  be  left  alone.  By  your  side  I  can  face 
the  storm,  but  I  shudder  at  the  thought  of  protests, 
appeals,  influences  perhaps  more  potent  than  I  imagine 
in  my  present  new-found  mood  of  hatred  of  the  wrong 
which  has  been  done  me.  Derry,  why,  do  you  think, 
have  I  asked  you  to  leave  Newport  early  tomorrow?  " 

Stirred  by  a  common  impulse,  they  both  stood  up- 
right. All  at  once  she  seemed  to  be  unable  to  bear 
his  burning  gaze  any  longer,  and  her  head  sank  on 
his  breast.  He  had  thrown  a  protecting  arm  around 
her  shoulders,  and  he  felt  her  supple  body  quiver  un- 
der a  sob  which  she  tried  to  restrain. 

"  Nancy,"  he  whispered,  "  am  I  to  take  you  with 
me?" 

"  Yes,"  she  said  brokenly. 

"  You  mean  that  we  are  to  be  a  law  unto  ourselves, 
and  thereby  make  divorce  proceedings  inevitable?  I 
rmist  put  it  that  way,  my  dear  one!  I  Ttmst  under- 
stand 1  " 

"  Yes,  Derry.  You  must  understand.  There  is  no 
other  way." 

He  held  her  so  tightly  that  he  became  aware  of 
the  mad  racing  of  her  heart,  and  a  great  pity  stirred 
his  inmost  core.  How  she  must  have  suffered!  What 
agony  was  this  forced  discarding,  one  by  one,  of  her 
maidenly  defenses!  Though  he  had  been  blind  and 
deaf  solely  because  of  the  depth  and  intensity  of  his 
love  and  reverence,  he  could  utter  now  only  a  halting 


The  Step  That  Counted  133 

plea  that  would   explain   his   slowness   of  perception. 

"  Forgive  me,  Dear !  "  he  murmured.  "  I  can  find 
nothing  better  to  say  than  that — forgive  me!  I  was 
so  absorbed  In  my  own  dream  of  happiness  that  I  gave 
no  heed  to  the  means.  But  I  shall  never  again  be  so 
thoughtless." 

"  Thoughtless ! "  She  raised  her  sweet  face  once 
more,  tear-stained  and  smiling.  "  You  thoughtless, 
Derry.?  Women  thank  God  for  that  sort  of  thought- 
lessness in  men  like  you  I" 

And  with  that,  before  he  could  forestall  or  even 
divine  her  intention,  she  had  withdrawn  from  his  em- 
brace, and  had  run  lightly  up  half  a  dozen  of  the  Forty 
Steps. 

"  Come ! "  she  cried,  with  an  alteration  of  manner 
and  voice  that  was  almost  stupefying  to  her  hearer. 
"  We  have  been  here  an  unconscionable  time,  and  just 
think  how  awful  it  will  be  if  our  cabman  has  taken  home 
his  tired  horse!  Of  course,  even  at  the  twelfth  hour, 
I  have  loads  of  things  to  pack.  And,  since  I  don't  know 
where  I  am  going,  the  task  of  selecting  a  reasonable 
stock  of  clothes  is  too  appalling  for  words.  Oh,  don't 
gaze  at  me  as  If  I  were  a  ghost,  Derry !  I  am  not  about 
to  flit  away  into  space.  You  will  have  another  half 
hour  of  my  company;  because,  let  that  poor  horse  do 
his  best,  we  sha'n't  reach  our  respective  habitations  till 
long  after  eleven  o'clock." 

Yet  she  was  neither  excited  nor  hysterical.  A  great 
load  had  been  lifted  off  her  heart,  and  her  naturally 
gay  temperament  was  asserting  itself  with  vital  insist- 
ence. There  was  no  possibility  of  drawing  back  now. 
Nothing  but  death  could  separate  her  from  her  lover. 


134  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

Nothing  but  death!  Well,  that  separation  must  come 
in  the  common  order  of  things ;  but  a  bright  road 
stretched  before  her  mind's  eye  through  a  long  vista  of 
years,  and  her  spirit  sang  within  her  and  rejoiced  ex- 
ceedingly. No  shred  of  doubt  or  hesitation  remained. 
She  had  passed  already  through  the  storm,  and  though 
its  clouds  might  roll  in  sullen  thunder  among  distant 
hills  yet  awhile,  the  particular  hilltop  on  which  she 
stood  was  bathed  in  sunlight. 

Above  all  else,  despite  her  complete  trust  in  Power, 
she  thrilled  with  the  consciousness  that  her  love  con- 
tained a  delicious  spice  of  fear,  and  that  is  why  she 
climbed  the  Forty  Steps  in  a  sort  of  panic;  so  that 
he  marveled  at  her  change  of  mood,  and  discovered  in 
it  only  one  more  of  the  enchantments  with  which  his 
fancy  clothed  her. 

The  driver  regarded  them  as  a  moonstruck  couple, 
since  that  sort  of  moon  shines  ever  on  fine  evenings  by 
the  sea.  He  was  obviously  surprised  when  the  lady's 
address  was  given,  because  he  expected  a  return  jour- 
ney to  one  of  Newport's  many  boarding-houses ;  but 
any  suspicions  he  may  have  entertained  were  dispelled 
when  he  witnessed  a  polite  farewell  in  the  presence  of 
a  pompous  butler,  and  heard  Nancy  say : 

"  I  am  going  straight  to  my  room  now  to  write  that 
letter  to  my  father.  Then  I  shall  finish  packing. 
What  time  is  the  train — nine  o'clock.  Goodnight, 
Derry !    Sleep  well !  " 

If  he  thought  at  all  about  the  matter,  the  cabman 
might  well  have  imagined  that  no  young  lady  in  New- 
port that  night  had  used  words  less  charged  with 
explosive  properties;  yet  no  giant  cannon  on  the  war- 


The  Step  That  Counted  185 

ships  swinging  to  their  moorings  in  the  bay  could  have 
rivaled  the  uproar  those  few  simple  sentences  might 
create.  Moreover,  he  heard  the  gentleman  address  the 
butler  by  name,  and  witnessed  the  transference  of  a 
tip,  accompanied  by  the  plain  statement  that  the  giver 
was  leaving  Newport  early  next  day.  Indeed,  once 
he  had  deposited  his  fare  at  the  Ocean  House,  the  man 
probably  gave  no  further  heed  to  one  or  other  of  the 
pair  who  had  some  foolish  liking  for  a  prolonged  stroll 
on  the  cliffs  overlooking  the  Atlantic,  nor,  to  his  knowl- 
edge, did  he  ever  again  see  them,  or  even  hear  their 
names  spoken  of. 

Power  was  crossing  the  veranda  with  his  alert,  un- 
even strides  when  a  voice  came  out  of  the  gloom: 

"Hullo,  Power,  that  you?  Come  and  join  me  in  a 
parting  drink." 

It  was  Dae  re,  the  one  person  in  the  hotel  from  whom 
such  an  invitation  was  not  an  insufferable  nuisance  at 
the  moment. 

"  I'm  in  a  bit  of  a  hurry,"  said  Power,  "  as  I  am  off 
tomorrow  morning;  but  I'm  glad  to  find  you  here. 
You've  received  my  note?  " 

"Yes.  Sit  down.  I'm  just  going  to  light  a  cigar, 
and  the  match  will  help  you  to  mix  your  own  poison. 
Had  a  pleasant  evening?  " 

It  was  a  natural  though  curiously  pertinent  ques- 
tion ;  but  Power  was  at  no  loss  for  an  answer. 

"  I  have  really  been  arranging  certain  details  as  a 
preliminary  to  my  departure,"  he  said. 

"  Where  are  you  bound  for,  New  York?  " 

"  After  some  days,  or  weeks,  perhaps.  I  hardly 
know  yet." 


136  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

"  You've  changed  your  plans,  it  seems  ?  " 

Power  remembered  then  that  he  had  invited  the  Eng- 
lishman to  visit  Colorado.  It  was  practically  settled 
that  Dacre  should  come  West  within  three  weeks  or 
a  month. 

"  By  Jove ! "  he  cried,  "  you  must  accept  my  apolo- 
gies. Of  course,  I  would  have  recalled  our  fixture  in 
good  time,  and  have  written  postponing  your  trip  to 
Bison.  Circumstances  beyond  my  control  will  prevent 
my  return  home  for  an  indefinite  period.  I  can't  tell 
you  how  sorry  I  am." 

"  Same  here,"  said  the  other,  with  John  Bull  di- 
rectness. 

"  But  neither  of  us  is  likely  to  shuffle  off  the  map 
yet  awhile,"  continued  Power.  "  You  have  my  address, 
both  in  Colorado  and  at  my  New  York  bank,  and  I 
have  yours.  Keep  me  posted  as  to  your  movements, 
and  we  shall  come  together  again  later  in  the  year." 

He  was  eager  to  dissipate  a  certain  starchiness,  not 
wholly  unjustifiable,  which  he  thought  he  could  detect 
in  his  companion's  manner ;  but  the  discovery  of  its  true 
cause  disconcerted  him  more  than  he  cared  to  acknowl- 
edge, even  to  himself.  Enlightenment  was  not  long 
delayed.  Dacre's  evident  lack  of  ease  arose  from  cir- 
cumstances vastly  more  important  than  the  disruption 
of  his  own  plans;  he  hesitated  only  because  he  was 
searching  for  the  right  way  to  express  himself. 

"  You  and  I  have  cultivated  quite  a  friendship  since 
we  forgathered  here  nearly  three  weeks  ago,"  he  be- 
gan, after  a  pause  which  Power  again  interpreted 
mistakenly. 

*'  Yes,  indeed.    Won't  you  let  me  explain——'* 


The  Step  That  Counted  137 

"  Not  just  yet.  You  are  on  the  wrong  tack,  Power. 
You  believe  I'm  rather  cut  up  about  the  postponement 
of  your  invitation.  Not  a  bit  of  it.  This  little  globe 
cannot  hold  two  men  like  you  and  me,  and  keep  us  apart 
during  the  remainder  of  our  naturals.  No,  mine  is  a 
different  sort  of  grouch.  Now,  I'm  a  good  deal  older 
than  you.  You  won't  take  amiss  anything  I  tell  you, 
providing  I  make  it  clear  that  I  mean  well.'*  " 

"  I  can  guarantee  that,  at  any  rate." 

Power's  reply  was  straightforward  enough;  but  his 
tone  was  cold  and  guarded.  The  chill  of  premonition 
had  fallen  on  him.  A  man  whom  he  liked  and  re- 
spected was  about  to  fire  the  first  shot  on  behalf  of 
unctuous  rectitude  and  the  conventions. 

"  I  may  as  well  open  with  a  broadside,"  said  Dacre, 
unwittingly  adopting  the  simile  of  social  warfare  which 
had  occurred  to  his  hearer.  "  I  was  out  with  a  yacht- 
ing party  this  afternoon,  and  we  were  becalmed.  Three 
of  us  came  away  from  the  New  York  Yacht  Club's  boat- 
house  about  half-past  eight,  and  took  a  street-car  in 
preference  to  one  of  those  rickety  old  cabs.  Luckily, 
by  the  accident  of  position,  I  was  the  only  one  of  the 
three  who  saw  a  lady  and  gentleman  come  out  of  an 
Italian  restaurant.  The  presence  of  two  such  people  in 
that  locality  was  unusual,  to  say  the  least;  but,  as  the 
man  was  a  friend  of  mine,  and  the  lady  one  whom  I 
admire  and  respect,  I  said  nothing  to  the  other  fellows." 

"  That  was  thoughtful  of  you,"  broke  in  Power,  half 
in  sarcasm ;  for  he  was  vastly  irritated  that  he  had  not 
contrived  affairs  more  discreetly,  and  half  in  genuine 
recognition  of  Dacre's  tact. 

"  The  thinking  came  later,"  said   the   Englishman 


138  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

slowly.  "  When  all  is  said  and  done,  a  little  dinner 
a  Vltalienne  might  pass  by  way  of  a  joke — a  harmless 
escapade  at  the  best,  or  worst.  But,  when  I  reach  my 
hotel  and  find  a  note  announcing  that  the  man  is  leav- 
ing Newport  unexpectedly,  and  when  I  hear  at  the 
Casino  that  the  woman  also  is  arranging  to  meet  her 
father  in  New  York,  with  equal  unexpectedness,  I  am 
inclined  to  ask  the  man,  he  being  something  more  than 
a  mere  acquaintance,  if  there  is  not  a  very  reasonable 
probability  that  he  is  making  a  damned  fool  of  him- 
self. Now,  are  we  going  to  discuss  this  thing  ra- 
tionally, or  do  you  want  to  hit  me  with  a  heavy 
siphon?  If  the  latter,  kindly  change  your  mind,  and 
let's  talk  about  the  next  race  for  the  America's  Cup." 

Here  no  solemn  diapason  of  wave  and  shingle  re- 
lieved an  unnerving  silence.  Not  even  the  distant  rum- 
ble of  a  vehicle  broke  the  tension.  The  hour  was  late 
for  ordinary  traffic,  early  for  diners  and  dancers.  A 
deep  hush  lay  on  the  hotel  and  its  garden.  It  was 
so  dark  that  the  street  lamps,  twinkling  few  and  far 
between  the  trees,  appeared  to  diffuse  no  larger  area 
of  light  than  so  many  fireflies. 

"  Are  we  alone  here  ?  "  said  Power,  speaking  only 
when  an  uneasy  movement  on  Dacre's  part  bestirred 
him. 

"  Yes.  I  saw  to  that  when  I  heard  your  cab.  I 
timed  you  to  a  nicety." 

"  You  must  be  experienced  in  these  matters." 

"  I  have  been  most  sorts  of  an  idiot  in  my  time." 

**  You  are  quite  sure  we  are  not  overheard  ?  " 

"  As  sure  as  a  man  can  be  of  anything." 

"  Then  I  recognize  your  right  to  question  me.     To- 


The  Step  That  Counted  189 

night  you,  tomorrow  all  Newport,  will  know  what  has 
happened " 


"Pardon  an  interruption.  Women  are  invariably 
careful  of  the  hour,  howsoever  heedless  they  may  be 
of  next  week.  Newport  knows  nothing,  will  know  noth- 
ing, except  that  a  popular  lady  is  meeting  her  father 
in  New  York,  the  said  father  having  written  to  say 
he  is  coming  East.  His  letter  is  Exhibit  A,  yours 
to  me  Exhibit  B,  or  it  would  be  if  it  weren't 
burnt." 

"  A  legal  jargon  is  not  out  of  place.  When  the  lady 
in  question  has  secured  a  divorce  she  will  become  my 
wife.  Now  you  have  the  true  explanation  of  my  seem- 
ing discourtesy.  When  I  am  married,  I  shall  enter- 
tain you  at  Bison  if  I  have  to  escort  you  from  Tokio, 
or  even  from  Sing  Sing." 

«  But " 

"There  are  no  'buts.'  She  was  stolen  from  me,  de- 
coyed away  by  the  tricks  of  the  pickpocket  and  the 
forger.  I  am  merely  regaining  possession  of  my  own. 
It  was  not  I  who  cleared  up  the  theft.  That  was  her 
doing.  There  can  be  no  shirking  the  consequences. 
If  my  mother,  whom  I  love  and  venerate,  implored  me 
on  her  bended  knees  to  draw  back  now  from  the  course 
I  have  mapped  out,  I  would  stop  my  ears  to  her  plead- 
ing, because  I  could  not  yield  to  it." 

"Oh,  it's  like  that,  is  it.?" 

"  Just  like  that." 

Dacre  struck  another  match,  and  relighted  the  cigar 
which  he  had  allowed  to  go  out  after  the  first  whifF 
or  two.  Power  noticed  that  the  flare  of  the  match  was 
not  used  as  an  excuse  for  scrutinizing  him,  because  his 


140  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

friend's  eyes  were  studiously  averted.  Then  came  the 
quiet,  cultured  voice  from  the  darkness: 

"  If  that's  the  position,  old  man,  I  wish  you  every 
sort  of  good  luck,  and  a  speedy  end  to  your  worries, 
and  I'll  come  at  your  call  to  that  ranch  of  yours,  from 
the  other  end  of  the  earth,  if  need  be." 

Again  a  little  pause.     Then  Power  spoke: 

"  You  ring  like  true  metal  all  the  time,  Dacre.  May 
I  ask  you  one  thing — are  you  married  ?  " 

"  No,  nor  ever  likely  to  be.  I — I  lost  her,  not  by 
fraud,  but  by  my  own  folly.  But  she  understood — be- 
fore she  died.  That  is  my  only  consolation.  It  must 
suffice.     It  has  sufficed." 

"  I'm  sorry.  I  touched  that  chord  unthinkingly.  I 
merely  wanted  to  have  your  full  comprehension — and 
sympathy." 

"  You  had  both  already.  I  would  not  have  dared 
to  intrude  if  I  did  not  realize  that  a  man  talking  to 
another  man  can  raise  points  which  are  lost  sight  of 
when  a  woman — the  woman — is  the  other  party  to  the 
debate." 

"  Would  you  care  to  hear  a  brief  record  of  my  life 
during  the  last  few  years  ?  " 

"  Go  right  ahead !  I'm  not  a  gossip.  If  I  know 
something  of  the  truth,  I  may  be  able  to  stop  a  rill 
of  scandal  one  of  these  days.  There's  bound  to  be 
chatter,  even  though  old  Mr.  Willard  comes  East." 

"  You  know  the  name,  then  ?  " 

'*  Certainly.  Mrs.  Van  Ralten  was  speaking  about 
him  tonight — not  very  favorably,  either.  Said  she 
couldn't  understand  how  such  a  man  could  have  such 
a  daughter." 


The  Step  That  Counted  141 

"  Mrs.  Van  Ralten  is  a  remarkably  intelligent 
woman,"  said  Power  dryly.  "I  never  saw  Nancy's 
mother;  but  I  imagine  that  this  is  a  case  of  exclusive 
heredity,  because  there  never  were  two  more  diverse 
natures  than  Nancy's  and  her  father's.  She  is  the  soul 
of  honor,  and  would  give  her  life  for  a  principle ;  while 
he  bartered  his  own  daughter  for  a  few  thousand  dol- 
lars. If  I  were  not  convinced  of  that,  do  you  believe 
I  would  besmirch  her  good  name  and  my  own  by  so 
much  as  tonight's  mild  adventure  in  an  Italian  cafe?  " 

"  I  can  give  you  easy  assurance  on  that  head.  I 
have  seldom  been  so  surprised  as  when  I  saw  the  pair 
of  you  leaving  the  place  and  entering  a  cab." 

"  That  was  a  mere  episode,  a  first  *meek  onslaught 
on  the  proprieties,  so  to  speak.  You  will  understand 
fully  when  I  have  told  you  the  whole  story." 

They  talked,  or  rather  Power  talked  and  Dacre  lis- 
tened, till  a  clock  struck  twelve  somewhere.  Carriages 
began  to  roll  along  the  neighboring  avenues,  and  lamps 
occasionally  flitted  past  the  hotel.  Two  or  three  vi- 
vacious groups  crossed  the  veranda,  and  a  porter 
turned  on  a  lamp.  Then  Power  found  that  his  English 
friend  had  placed  their  chairs  in  a  sort  of  alcove  formed 
by  a  disused  doorway  flanked  on  each  hand  by  a  huge 
palm  growing  in  a  wooden  tub  which  held  a  ton  of 
earth,  or  more ;  so  they  were  well  screened. 

"  You  meant  to  force  me  to  confess,"  he  said, 
smiling. 

"  Yes.  It  might  have  been  merely  folly  on  your 
part." 

"But  now?" 

"  Now  it  is  Fate's  own  contriving.    You  don't  want 


142  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

to  escape;  but  you  couldn't  if  you  did.  Or,  that  is 
awkwardly  put.    What  I  mean  is " 

Dacre's  meaning  was  clear  enough ;  but  he  never  com- 
pleted the  sentence.  A  cab,  laden  with  luggage,  drove 
up,  and  a  slightly  built,  elderly  man  alighted, 

"  This  the  Ocean  House  ^  "  he  inquired,  when  a  por- 
ter hurried  forward. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  and  the  man  took  a  portmanteau  from 
the  driver. 

"  Hold  on,  there !  I'm  not  sure  I  shall  want  a  room. 
How  far  is  *  The  Breakers  '  from  here,  Mrs.  Marten's 
house?  " 

"  Quite  a  ways,"  said  the  cabman.  "  Two  miles  an' 
a  bit." 

The  new  arrival  seemed  to  consider  the  distance  and 
the  lateness  of  the  hour. 

"  Is  Mrs.  Marten  in  Newport,  do  you  know.?"  he  asked. 

"  Yep.    I  tuk  her  downtown  this  evenin'." 

"Alone?" 

"  Guess  that's  so." 

"  Where  was  she  going?  " 

"  Wall,  ye  see,  I  was  on  the  box,  an'  de  lady  was 
inside;  so  we  didn't  git  anyways  sociable." 

The  stranger  evidently  bethought  himself,  and  turned 
to  the  porter  again.  He  could  not  know  that  a 
Harvard  man  was  merely  speaking  in  the  vernacular. 
"  Have  you  a  Mr.  Power  staying  here?  "  he  asked. 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Is  he  here  now?  " 

"  If  he  isn't  in  the  hotel,  he'll  be  at  the  Casino. 
Shall  I  ring  up  his  room,  sir  ?  " 

"  No,  no.    I'll  see  him  in  the  morning.     It's  too  late 


The  Step  That  Counted  143 

to  go  any  farther  tonight,  and  I'm  rather  tired  and 
shaken  up.  My  train  was  derailed,  and  we  are  hours 
behind  time.  Give  me  a  decent  room.  I  suppose  I 
can  have  breakfast  at  eight  o'clock?  " 

"  Any  time  you  like,  sir." 

The  cab  went  off,  and  the  inquisitive  visitor  entered 
the  building.  The  two  men  seated  behind  the  palms 
had  not  uttered  a  syllable  while  the  foregoing  conclave 
was  in  progress. 

"  Mr.  Francis  Willard,  I  presume  ? "  murmured 
Dacre,  when  the  retreating  footsteps  had  died  away. 

"Yes,"  said  Power. 

"  Three  days  ahead  of  the  time  stated  in  his  let- 
ter, I  presume  further." 

"  That  must  be  so." 

"  Foxy.  He  fits  your  description.  What  are  you 
going  to  do  now?  " 

"  Finish  my  yarn,  if  I  am  not  wearying  you,  and 
leave  Newport  at  seven  a.m.  instead  of  nine-ten.  The 
fox  broke  cover  just  a  little  too  soon." 

"  By  gad,  yes !  I  think  I'll  recognize  that  cabman 
again.  If  I  come  across  him,  I'll  tip  him  for  you.  He 
deserves  it.  .  .  ,  The  swine!  To  start  pumping  the 
townsfolk  before  he  was  ten  seconds  in  the  place,  and 
about  his  own  daughter,  too !  Dash  his  eyes — wait  till 
someone  refers  him  to  me  for  news  of  you!  I'll  head 
him  into  the  open  country  quick  enough — trust  me !  " 

Dacre's  comments  might  sound  rather  incoherent; 
but  it  was  painfully  evident  that  Nancy's  father  had 
created  a  bad  first  impression,  and  he  was  one  of  those 
unhappy  mortals  who  could  not  afford  to  do  that,  be- 
cause he  never  survived  it. 


CHAPTER  IX 
THE  CHASE 

In  the  morning  Power's  first  care  was  to  ascertain 
the  position  of  the  room  allotted  to  Willard.  As  he 
imagined,  it  proved  to  be  in  the  back  part  of  the 
hotel,  every  apartment  in  the  front  section  being  occu- 
pied by  season  residents.  Shortly  before  six  o'clock, 
therefore,  he  drove  away  in  an  open  carriage,  confident 
that  nothing  short  of  an  almost  incredible  chance  would 
bring  the  older  man  to  vestibule  or  porch  at  that  early 
hour.  Halting  the  vehicle  at  a  corner  near  Nancy's 
abode,  he  walked  to  the  house,  and  surprised  the  earli- 
est servants  astir  by  bidding  one  of  them  wake  Mrs. 
Marten  at  once,  as  he  had  news  of  her  father. 

"  Nothing  serious,"  he  added,  with  a  reassuring  smile 
at  a  housemaid  whose  alarmed  face  showed  an  imme- 
diate sense  of  disaster.  "  Mrs.  Marten  is  leaving  New- 
port today,  I  think,  and  my  message  may  decide  her 
to  start  sooner — that  is  all." 

But  Nancy  had  seen  him  from  her  bedroom  window, 
and  now  fluttered  downstairs  in  a  dressing  gown. 

"What  is  it,  Derry?"  she  asked,  and  mistress  and 
maid  evidently  shared  the  feminine  belief  that  such  an 
untimely  call  presaged  something  sensational  and  there- 
fore sinister. 

"  Don't  be  frightened,'*  he  said  cheerfully,  knowing 
how  essential  it  was  that  she  should  not  be  startled 


The  Chase  145 

into  an  exclamation  which  might  betray  her  secret  to 
the  listening  servants.  "  I  heard  from  Dacre  last  night 
that  you  meant  to  meet  Mr.  Willard  in  New  York, 
and  I  have  reason  to  believe  that  you  ought  to  depart 
by  the  first  train.  To  do  that,  you  must  get  away 
from  the  house  in  forty  minutes.  Can  you  manage 
it?" 

She  came  nearer,  seeking  the  truth  in  his  warning 
eyes,  carrying  a  brave  front  before  the  maids,  but  with 
fear  in  her  heart,  because  she  and  her  lover  had  eaten 
of  the  forbidden  fruit,  and  now  they  were  as  gods, 
knowing  good  and  evil. 

"  Mr.  Dacre !  "  she  repeated.  "  I  suppose  Mary 
Van  Ralten  told  him  what  I  said.  But  I  don't  quite 
understand.    Why  should  I  hurry  my  departure?  " 

Nothing  in  this  that  anyone  might  hear  and  deem 
significant.  Power  laughed,  as  though  her  air  of  slight 
alarm  had  amused  him. 

"  Come  into  the  veranda,"  he  said.  "  You  are  not 
afraid  of  the  morning  air,  and  it  is  not  on  my  con- 
science that  I  have  robbed  you  of  an  hour's  sleep,  since 
you  were  up  and  around  before  I  arrived." 

When  they  were  alone,  though  shut  off  from  inquisi- 
tive ears  by  wire-screen  doors  only,  he  said,  in  a  low 
voice : 

"  Don't  say  anything  that  will  cause  comment,  but 
your  father  arrived  at  the  Ocean  House  soon  after 
midnight,  and  means  to  be  here  about  nine  o'clock. 
Our  train  leaves  at  seven.  Will  you  use  your  own  car- 
riage, or  shall  I  send  a  cab  in  half  an  hour?  You  will 
be  ready,  of  course?  " 

Nancy  was  not  of  that  neurotic  type  of  womankind 


146  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

which  screams  or  faints  in  a  crisis.  "  Y-yes,"  she  mur- 
mured.    "  In  less  time,  if  you  wish." 

"  No  need  to  rush  things,"  he  said  coolly.  "  He  is 
not  to  be  called  till  eight.  I  heard  him  give  the 
order." 

"  You  heard  him ! " 

"  Yes.  Thanks  to  Dacre,  when  he  arrived  I  was  sit- 
ting in  the  veranda,  well  hidden,  as  it  happened;  so 
I  planned  to  reach  you  this  morning  with  a  couple  of 
hours  in  hand." 

"  But,  Derry,  I  have  a  note  written,  and  ready  for 
the  post.    I  can't  explain  now " 

"  Put  the  note  in  your  pocket,  and  deal  with  the 
new  situation  at  leisure.  There's  only  one  thing  I 
regret " 

"  Regret!  Oh,  Derry,  what  is  it?  "  And  again  the 
shadow  of  fear  darkened  her  eyes,  eyes  of  that  rare 
tint  of  Asiatic  blue  known  as  blende  Kagoul,  a  blue 
darker  at  times  than  any  other,  and  again,  bright,  daz- 
zling, full  of  promise,  rivaling  the  clear  sky  on  a  sum- 
mer's night. 

**  That  I  dare  not  take  you  in  my  arms  and  kiss 
you,"  he  said.  "  You  look  uncommonly  pretty  in  that 
negligee  wrap." 

She  blushed,  and  put  up  a  hand  to  reassure  herself 
lest  her  hair  might  be  tumbling  out  of  its  coils.  Then 
she  ran  to  the  screen  doors  and  pushed  them  apart. 

*'  I  can't  wait  another  second,"  she  said.  "  Please 
send  that  cab.  Our  own  men  will  hardly  be  at  the 
stables  yet." 

She  waved  a  hand  and  vanished.  Her  hurried  or- 
ders to  the  domestics  came  in  the  natural  sequence  of 


The  Chase  147 

things,  and  caused  no  surprise.  When  she  drove  away 
from  the  house  at  twenty  minutes  of  seven  every  mem- 
ber of  her  establishment  believed  that  Mrs.  Marten  had 
gone  to  join  her  father  in  New  York,  but,  for  some 
reason  communicated  by  her  "  cousin,"  was  traveling 
by  the  first  train  of  the  day  instead  of  the  second. 
The  only  perplexed  person  left  in  "  The  Breakers  " 
was  Julie,  the  French  maid,  who  thought  she  would 
find  a  holiday  in  Newport  dull,  and  was,  moreover, 
genuinely  concerned  because  of  the  scanty  wardrobe 
which  her  mistress  had  taken. 

Oddly  enough.  Power,  waiting  with  stoic  anxiety  out- 
side the  New  York,  New  Haven  &  Hartford  station, 
shared  some  part  of  Julie's  thought  when  he  saw  Nan- 
cy's two  small  steamer  trunks  and  a  hatbox. 

"  Well !  "  he  cried,  helping  her  to  alight.  "  Here  have 
I  been  worrying  about  the  capacity  of  the  cab  to  hold 
your  baggage,  and  you  bring  less  than  I !  " 

"  Pay  the  man,"  she  said  quietly.  Then,  under 
cover  of  the  approach  of  a  porter  with  a  creaking 
barrow,  she  added,  "  I  am  coming  to  you  penniless  and 
plainly  clad  as  ever  was  Nancy  Willard.  You  wish  that, 
don't  you?  " 

"  You  dear ! "  he  breathed ;  but  she  had  her  full  an- 
swer in  the  color  that  suffused  his  bronzed  face  and 
the  light  that  blazed  in  his  eyes. 

He  had  experienced  no  difficulty  in  securing  the  small 
coup6  of  a  Pullman  car  to  Boston.  In  that  train  there 
was  little  likelihood  of  any  chance  passenger  recog- 
nizing them.  In  actual  fact,  they  had  the  whole  car 
to  themselves.  Nancy,  who  could  not  banish  the  no- 
tion that  the  whole  world  was  watching  her,  was  ner- 


148  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

vous  and  ill  at  ease  until  the  train  pulled  out  of  the 
station.  She  even  started  and  flushed  violently  when 
the  conductor  came  to  examine  their  tickets,  where- 
upon the  man  smiled  discreetly  and  Power  laughed. 

"  You're  the  poorest  sort  of  conspirator,"  he  said, 
when  the  door  was  closed  on  the  intruder.  "We  had 
better  admit  straight  away  that  we're  a  honeymoon 
couple,  because  everybody  will  know  it  the  instant  they 
look  at  you." 

But  he  failed  to  charm  away  the  terror  that  op- 
pressed her  spirit.  She  felt  herself  a  fugitive  from 
some  unseen  but  awful  vengeance,  and  her  heart  quailed. 

"  Derry,"  she  said,  almost  on  the  verge  of  tears,  "  I'm 
beginning  to  be  afraid." 

"Afraid  of  what?" 

Somehow,  despite  his  utter  lack  of  experience  of 
woman's  ways,  he  had  guessed  that  this  moment  would 
arrive,  and  was,  to  that  extent,  prepared  for  it. 

"  Of  everything.  I — I  know  that  I  alone  am  to 
blame.     It  is  not  too  late  for  you  to  draw  back." 

"  Why  do  you  think  I  might  wish  to  draw  back  ?  " 

"  Because  of  the  horrid  exposure  you  must  face 
in  the  near  future." 

"  My  only  trouble  is  that  I  may  not  bear  your  share 
as  well  as  my  own,  Nancy.  The  combined  burden 
would  lie  light  as  thistledown  on  my  shoulders.  Let 
us  be  true  to  ourselves,  and  it  will  surprise  you  to  find 
how  readily  the  world,  our  world,  will  accept  our  view." 

"  In  your  heart  of  hearts,  Derry,  do  you  believe  we 
are  doing  right?  " 

"  When  ethics  come  in  at  the  door  love  flies  out  by  the 
window.     We  are  righting  a  grievous  wrong,  and,  al- 


The  Cha^e  149 

though  our  actions  must,  for  a  time,  be  opposed  to 
the  generally  accepted  code  of  morals,  I  do  honestly 
believe  that  this  is  a  case  in  which  the  end  justifies  the 
means." 

"  If  I  were  stronger.  Dear,  we  might  have  kept  within 
stricter  bounds." 

"  You  might  have  gone  to  Reno,  for  instance,  and 
qualified  for  a  divorce  by  residence?  " 

"  Something  of  the  sort." 

"  I'll  take  you  to  Reno,  if  you  like ;  but  I'm  going 
with  you.  Don't  forget  that  he  who  has  begun  has 
accomplished  half.  Why  are  you  torturing  yourself, 
little  woman?     Shall  I  tell  you?  " 

"  I  wish  you  would." 

"  Because,"  and  his  arms  were  thrown  around  her, 
and  he  kissed  away  the  tears  trembling  on  her  lashes, 
"  because,  like  me,  you  are  really  afraid  lest  we  may 
be  too  happy.  But  life  is  not  built  on  those  lines, 
Deary.  It  would  still  hold  its  tribulations  if  we  could 
set  the  calendar  back  to  an  April  night  of  three  years 
ago,  and  you  and  I  were  looking  forward  with  bright 
hope  to  half  a  century  of  wedded  joy,  with  never  a 
cloud  on  the  horizon,  and  never  a  memory  of  dark 
and  deadly  abyss  crossed  in  the  bygone  years.  Let 
us,  then,  not  lose  heart  in  full  view  of  the  one  threat- 
ening storm.  Let  us  rather  rejoice  that  we  are  facing 
it  together.  That  is  how  I  feel,  Nancy.  I  have  never 
loved  you  more  than  in  this  hour,  and  why  should  I 
repine  because  of  the  greatest  gift  God  can  give  to 
man,  the  unbounded  love  and  trust  of  the  one  woman 
he  desires?  You  are  mine,  Nancy,  mine  forever,  and 
I  will  not  let  you  g:o  till  I  sink  into  everlasting  night." 


150  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

After  that,  an  interlude,  when  words  were  impossi- 
ble, else  both  would  have  sobbed  like  erring  children. 
At  last  Nancy  raised  her  eyes,  and  smiled  up  into  her 
lover's  face,  and  he  understood  dimly  that,  when  a 
woman's  conscience  wages  war  with  her  emotions,  there 
may  come  a  speedy  end  to  the  unequal  strife. 

"  Derry,"  she  whispered,  "  have  you  realized  that 
I  don't  know  where  you  are  taking  me?  " 

So  the  battle  had  ceased  ere  it  had  well  begun.  Per- 
haps she  was  hardly  conscious — if  she  were,  she  gave  no 
sign — of  the  crisis  dissipated  by  that  simple  question. 
It  closed  with  a  clang  the  door  of  retreat.  Henceforth 
they  would  dree  their  weird  hand  in  hand.  They  would 
look  only  to  the  future,  and  stubbornly  disregard  the 
past.  Shutting  rebellious  eyes  against  a  mandate  writ- 
ten in  letters  of  fire,  they  would  seek  comfort  in  Her- 
rick's  time-serving  philosophy: 

**  Gather  ye  rosebuds  while  ye  may, 
Old  Time  is  still  a-flying; 
And  this  same  flower  that  smiles  today 
Tomorrow  will  be  dying/' 

The  train  slackened  speed.  They  were  nearing  a  way- 
side station,  and  they  drew  apart  in  confusion  like 
a  pair  of  lovers  surprised  in  some  quiet  corner.  But 
Power  laughed  softly,  and  Nancy  caught  a  new  note 
of  content  in  his  voice. 

"  A  nice  thing !  "  he  cried.  "  The  girl  is  safe  aboard 
the  lugger,  and  I  don't  even  tell  her  to  what  quarter 
of  the  globe  she  is  being  lugged.  But  the  sailing  di- 
rections are  easy.  We  breakfast  at  Boston.  Don't 
you  dare  say  you  cannot  eat  any  breakfast !  " 


The  Chase  151 

"  I  can,  or  I  shall,  at  any  rate,"  she  retorted  bravely. 

"  Then  Boston  will  be  the  best  place  on  earth  at 
nine  o'clock.  Afterward  we  take  the  Burlington  road, 
and  cross  Lake  Champlain.  There's  a  first-rate  hotel 
on  the  west  shore,  and  we  stay  there  tonight.  To- 
morrow we  plunge  into  the  Adirondacks,  and  lose  our- 
selves for  as  long  as  we  please.  How  does  that  pro- 
gram suit  my  lady  ?  " 

"  Whither  thou  goest "  she  said,  and  her  eyes  fell. 

Thus  did  they  thrust  dull  care  into  the  limbo  of  for- 
getfulness,  and  if  there  was  standing  at  the  gates  of 
their  Eden  a  frowning  angel  with  a  drawn  sword,  their 
vision  was  clouded,  and  they  could  not  see  him. 

America  rises  early,  even  in  holiday-making  New- 
port ;  so  Mr.  Francis  Willard  did  not  breakfast  in  soli- 
tary state.  When  he  entered  the  dining-room  at  half- 
past  eight  next  morning  he  cast  a  quick  glance  around 
the  well-filled  tables,  and  ascertained  instantly  that  the 
one  man  whom  he  did  not  wish  to  see  was  absent. 

Toward  the  close  of  the  meal  he  beckoned  the  head 
waiter. 

"  Where  does  Mr.  Power  sit  usually  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"  Over  there,  sir,  with  Mr.  Dacre,  the  English  gen- 
tleman, at  the  small  table  near  the  second  window." 

Following  directions,  Willard  noted  a  good-looking 
man,  apparently  about  forty  years  old,  who  was  study- 
ing the  menu  intently.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  Dacre 
had  seen  the  newcomer's  signal,  and  guessed  what  it 
portended. 

"  Oh,  indeed !  Mr.  Dacre  a  friend  of  his  ?  "  went  on 
Willard. 


152  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

"  They  are  often  together,  sir." 

"And  where  is  Mr.  Power  this  morning?  " 

"  He  left  by  the  first  train,  sir." 

For  some  reason  this  news  was  displeasing;  though 
Power's  departure  made  plausible  any  inquiries  con- 
cerning him. 

"  That's  a  nuisance,"  said  Willard.  "  I — wanted  to 
meet  him.  I  came  here  last  night  for  that  purpose. 
Do  you  happen  to  know  where  he  has  gone,  and  for 
how  long?  " 

The  head  waiter  was  not  in  the  habit  of  answering 
questions  about  his  patrons  indiscriminately. 

"  I  can't  say,  I'm  sure,  sir,"  he  replied ;  "  but  if  you 
were  to  ask  Mr.  Dacre  he  might  know." 

Willard  weighed  the  point.  In  one  respect,  he  was 
candid  with  himself.  He  had  come  to  Newport  to  spy 
on  Nancy,  and,  if  necessary,  to  put  a  prompt  and  ef- 
fectual end  to  any  threatened  renewal  of  her  friend- 
ship with  Power.  The  intuition  of  sheer  hatred  had 
half  warned  him  that  the  man  whom  he  regarded  as 
his  worst  enemy  might  possibly  visit  Rhode  Island ;  but 
some  newspaper  paragraph  about  the  purchase  of 
horses  bred  in  the  state  of  New  York  had  lulled  his 
suspicions  until  he  chanced  to  meet  Benson  at  lunch 
in  the  Brown  Palace  Hotel.  Marten's  secretary  was 
worried.  He  had  replied  to  Nancy's  letter  the  pre- 
vious day;  but  was  not  quite  sure  that  he  had  taken 
the  right  line,  and  he  seized  the  opportunity  now  to 
consult  her  father.  Of  course,  he  did  not  reveal  his 
employer's  business,  and  Willard  was  the  last  person 
with  whom  he  could  discuss  the  mortgage  transaction 
fully ;  but  he  saw  no  harm  in  alluding  casually  to  Mrs. 


The  Chase  153 

Marten's  curious  inquiry,  and  was  relieved  to  find  that 
her  father  agreed  with  the  answer  he  had  given. 

The  actual  truth  was  that  Willard  felt  too  stunned 
by  the  disclosure  to  trust  his  own  speech.  He  was  well 
aware  already  that  Marten  had  used  him  as  a  cat's-paw 
in  bringing  about  the  marriage;  but  that  phase  of  the 
affair  had  long  ceased  to  trouble  him.  The  real  shock 
of  Benson's  guarded  statement  lay  in  Nancy's  point- 
blank  question.  Why  had  she  put  it?  What  influence 
was  at  work  that  such  serious  thought  should  be  given 
to  his  financial  straits  of  nearly  four  years  ago.? 

In  the  upshot,  he  left  Denver  by  that  night's  mail ; 
though  the  letter  in  which  he  spoke  tentatively  of  a 
visit  to  Newport,  and  of  which  Nancy  had  availed  her- 
self in  talk  with  her  friends  at  the  Casino,  had  been 
only  a  day  in  the  post,  and,  in  the  ordinary  course  of 
events,  demanded  a  reply  before  he  undertook  a  jour- 
ney of  two  thousand  miles. 

And  now  he  was  vaguely  uneasy.  Though  he  hated 
the  sight  of  Power,  he  wished  heartily  that  the  inter- 
loper who  had  snatched  from  him  the  bonanza  of  the 
Dolores  Ranch  had  remained  in  Newport  during  this 
one  day,  at  least.  Yes,  he  would  speak  to  Power's 
British  acquaintance,  and  glean  some  news  of  the  man 
to  whom  he  had  done  a  mortal  wrong  and  therefore 
hated  with  an  intensity  bordering  on  mania. 

Dacre  saw  him  coming ;  so  it  was  with  the  correct  air 
of  polite  indifference  that  he  heard  himself  addressed 
by  an  elderly  stranger. 

"  I'm  sorry  to  disturb  you,"  said  Willard,  "  but  the 
head  waiter  tells  me  that  your  friend,  Mr.  Power,  has 
left  Newport.     As  I  am  anxious  to  have  a  word  with 


154  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

him,  I  thought  that,  perhaps,  you  wouldn't  mind  tell- 
ing me  his  whereabouts.  My  name  is  Willard,  and  I 
arrived  here  from  Denver  at  a  late  hour  yesterday ;  at 
midnight,  in  fact,  my  train  having  been  delayed  by  an 
accident." 

Nancy's  father  was  well  spoken.  He  owned  a  cer- 
tain distinction  of  manner  and  bearing.  Like  the  ma- 
jority of  undersized  men,  he  was  self-assertive  by  na- 
ture; but  education  and  fifty  years  of  experience  had 
rounded  the  angles  of  his  character,  and,  in  a  matter 
of  this  sort,  he  carried  himself  with  agreeable  ease. 

Dacre  was  all  smiles  instantly.  "  What !  Mrs.  Mar- 
ten's father?"  he  cried.  "Delighted  to  meet  you! 
Sit  down,  Mr.  Willard.  Let  us  become  better  known 
to  each  other !  " 

Willard  was  hardly  prepared  for  this  cordial  recog- 
nition; but  he  shook  hands  affably,  and  seated  himself 
in  Power's  chair,  as  it  chanced. 

"  You  have  heard  of  me  from  my  daughter,  I  sup- 
pose? "  he  began. 

"  Yes.  She  was  telling  Mrs.  Van  Ralten  and  sev- 
eral others,  including  myself — let  me  see,  was  it  last 
night  at  the  Casino.? — ^that  you  were  thinking  of  com- 
ing East;  but  I  gathered  she  did  not  expect  you  till 
a  few  days  later.    I  was  mistaken,  evidently." 

"  No.  I  am  giving  her  a  surprise.  I  managed  to 
get  away  sooner  than  I  expected,  and  the  prospect  of 
Newport's  Atlantic  breezes  was  so  enticing  that  I  just 
made  a  rush  for  the  next  train." 

"  Well,  you  are  here,  and  the  long  j  ourney  is  ended, 
a  pleasant  achievement  in  itself.  Was  the  train  acci- 
dent a  serious  one?  " 


The  Chase  155 

Willard  supplied  details,  and  his  sympathetic  hearer 
swapped  reminiscences  of  a  similar  mishap  on  the 
Paris,  Lyon  et  Mediterranee  Railway.  Incidentally,  he 
wasted  quarter  of  an  hour  before  Willard  could  bring 
him  back  to  the  topic  of  the  missing  Power, 

"Ah,  yes — as  to  Power,"  nodded  Dacre,  seemingly 
recalling  his  questioner's  errand.  "  Too  bad  you  didn't 
turn  up  yesterday.  Power  is  off  to  New  York — made 
up  his  mind  on  the  spur  of  the  moment — and  I  rather 
fancy  he  will  not  be  in  Newport  again  this  year.  In- 
deed, I  may  go  so  far  as  to  say  I  am  sure  he  won't, 
because  he  has  invited  me  to  his  place  at  Bison — some- 
where near  Denver,  isn't  it? — and  I  am  to  keep  him 
posted  as  to  my  own  movements,  so  that  we  can  ar- 
range things  to  our  mutual  convenience." 

Willard  laughed,  intending  merely  to  convey  his 
sense  of  the  absurdity  of  two  men  playing  hide  and 
seek  across  a  continent;  but  Dacre's  allusion  to  Bison 
brought  a  snarl  into  his  mirth. 

"You  will  write  to  the  ranch,  I  suppose.'*"  he  in- 
quired casually. 

"  Yes,"  said  Dacre,  knowing  full  well  that  he  was 
being  egged  on  to  reveal  any  more  immediate  address 
he  might  have  been  given. 

"  Then  I  can  only  apologize  for  troubling  you, 
and " 

"Not  at  all!  What's  your  hurry?  Let's  adjourn 
to  the  veranda  and  smoke." 

"  I  must  go  and  see  my  daughter." 

"  Oh,  fie,  Mr.  Willard !  You,  an  old  married  man, 
proposing  to  break  in  on  a  lady's  toilet  at  this  hour ! " 

"  My  girl  is  up  and  dressed  hours  ago." 


156  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

"  Well,  now  that  I  come  to  think  of  it,  you  are 
right.  Most  mornings  while  Power  was  here  he  joined 
Mrs.  Marten  and  others  for  a  scamper  across  the 
island,  and  they  were  in  the  saddle  by  seven-thirty — 
never  later." 

In  such  conditions,  being  essentially  a  weak  man, 
Willard  was  as  a  lump  of  modeler's  clay  in  the  hands 
of  a  skilled  sculptor.  He  could  not  resist  the  notion 
of  a  cigar,  he  said;  of  course,  it  was  easy  to  induce 
Dacre  to  gossip  anent  the  lively  doings  of  the  Casino 
set.  Ultimately,  he  entered  a  carriage  at  ten  o'clock, 
whereat  the  Briton,  watching  his  departure,  smiled 
complacently. 

"  Heaven  forgive  me  for  aiding  and  abetting  any 
man  in  running  away  with  another  man's  wife,"  he 
communed.  "  But  I  know  Derry  and  Nancy  and  Mar- 
ten, and  now  I  know  Willard,  and  being  a  confirmed 
idiot,  anyhow,  I  am  mighty  glad  I  was  able  to  secure 
those  young  people  a  pretty  useful  hour  and  a  quar- 
ter of  uninterrupted  travel.  As  we  say  in  Newport, 
it  should  help  some." 

It  had  an  effect  which  no  one  could  have  foreseen. 
It  rendered  Willard's  arrival  at  "  The  Breakers  "  a 
possible  thing  had  he  reached  Newport  that  morning, 
and  thus,  by  idle  chance,  closed  the  mouth  of  scandal; 
for  he  positively  reeled  under  the  shock  of  the  butler's 
open-mouthed  statement  that  Mrs.  Marten  had  left  the 
town  by  the  first  train. 

The  man  did  not  known  him ;  but,  being  a  well-trained 
servant,  he  made,  as  he  thought,  a  shrewd  guess  at 
the  truth. 


The  Chase  157 

"  Surely  you  are  not  Mr.  Willard,  sir?  "  he  said 
respectfully. 

"  Yes,  I  am."  Simple  words  enough ;  yet  their  ut- 
terance demanded  a  tremendous  effort. 

"Ah,  there  has  been  some  mistake,  sir,"  came  the 
ready  theory.  "  Mrs.  Marten  meant  to  meet  you  in 
New  York,  and  had  arranged  to  travel  by  the  nine 
o'clock  train  this  morning;  but  Mr.  Power  made  an 
early  call — you  know  Mr.  Power,  sir.?  " 

"  Yes— yes." 

"  He  seemed  to  have  some  information  about  you, 
sir,  which  caused  Mrs.  Marten  to  hurry  away  before 
seven.  There  has  been  a  sad  blunder,  I'm  sure.  What 
a  pity !  But  if  you  know  what  hotel  Mrs.  Marten  will 
stay  at,  you  can  fix  matters  by  a  telegram  within  a 
couple  of  hours.  .  .  .  Aren't  you  well,  sir?  Can  I  get 
you  anything?     Some  brandy?  " 

By  some  occult  process  of  thought,  Willard,  though 
stupefied  by  rage  and  dread — for  he  never  doubted 
for  a  second  that  Nancy  had  flown  with  Power — held 
fast  to  the  one  tangible  idea  that  her  household  was 
ignorant,  as  yet,  of  the  social  tornado  which  had  burst 
on  Newport  that  morning.  Could  anything  be  done 
to  avert  its  havoc  ?  God !  He  must  have  time  to  re- 
cover his  senses !  While  choking  with  passion,  he  must 
be  dumb  and  secret  as  the  grave!  A  false  move  now, 
the  least  slip  of  a  tongue  aching  to  rain  curses  on 
Power,  and  irretrievable  mischief  would  be  done.  Small 
wonder,  then,  that  the  butler  mistook  his  pallid  fury 
for  illness. 

"  Won't  you  come  into  the  morning-room,  and  sit 
down,  sir?  "  inquired  the  man  sympathetically. 


158  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

"  Yes,  take  me  anywhere — I'm  dead  beat.  I've  been 
traveling  for  days  in  this  damned  heat.  .  .  .  No !  no 
brandy,  thank  you.  A  glass  of  water.  Mrs.  Marten 
expected  me,  you  say?  " 

"  Yes,  sir — at  New  York." 

"Ah,  my  fault — entirely  my  fault.  I  misled  her, 
not  purposely,  of  course.     She  gave  you  no  address  ?  " 

"  No,  sir.  Said  she  would  write  in  a  few  days, 
perhaps  within  a  week;  but  she  imagined  your  move- 
ments were  uncertain,  and  she  could  decide  nothing  till 
she  had  seen  you." 

"  Ah,  the  devil  take  it,  my  fault !  I  ought  to  have 
telegraphed." 

He  harped  on  this  string  as  promising  some  measure 
of  safety  for  the  hour.  By  this  time  he  was  seated, 
and  ostensibly  sipping  iced  water,  while  his  frenzied 
brain  was  striving  to  find  an  excuse  to  encourage  the 
man  to  talk. 

"  Perhaps  Mrs.  Marten  may  return  when  she  dis- 
covers her  mistake,"  he  contrived  to  say  with  some  show 
of  calmness. 

"  Well,  sir,  that  may  happen,  of  course.  My  mis- 
tress did  not  take  any  large  supply  of  clothing,  and 
left  her  maid  here;  so,  when  she  misses  you  in  New 
York,  she  will  probably  wire  for  Julie,  at  any  rate." 

"Julie?" 

"  The  French  maid,  sir." 

"  What  time  did  Mr.  Power  call?  " 

"  Very  early,  sir.    About  six  o'clock." 

Willard  was  slowly  gaining  a  semblance  of  self- 
control.  He  realized  that  he  had  been  checkmated  in 
some   inexplicable   way;  but  it  was   imperative   that 


The  Chase  159 

Power's  interference  should  not  give  ground  for  sus- 
picion. 

"I  am  beginning  to  grasp  the  situation  now,"  he 
said,  forcing  a  ghastly  smile.  "  Mr.  Power  heard  of 
the  accident  to  my  train — it  was  derailed  late  last 
night — and,  fearing  lest  I  might  be  injured,  he  hur- 
ried Mrs.  Marten  away  without  telling  her," 

"  Then  you  came  by  way  of  New  York,  sir?  " 

"  Yes.    We  were  held  up  near  Groton." 

"Pity  you  didn't  come  ^j  the  Fall  River  steamer, 
sir.  Then  you  would  have  caught  Mrs.  Marten,  as  the 
boat  arrives  here  at  a  quarter  of  four  in  the  morn- 
ing." 

Willard  wanted  badly  to  swear  at  the  well-meaning 
butler.  He  had  chosen  the  train  purposely  in  order 
to  be  in  Newport  the  previous  night,  and  his  own  haste 
had  proved  his  undoing.  Why  should  this  fat  menial 
put  an  unerring  finger  on  the  one  weak  spot  in  his 
calculations  ? 

But  he  felt  the  urgent  need  for  action,  and  he  was 
only  losing  time  now,  as  it  was  evident  that  Nancy  had 
covered  her  tracks  dexterously  where  her  servants  were 
concerned. 

"  Is  that  cab  still  waiting?  "  he  demanded  suddenly. 

"  Yes,  sir.  I  didn't  notice  any  baggage.  Shall 
I " 

"  I  don't  intend  to  remain.  I'll  telegraph  to  New 
York,  and  go  there  by  tonight's  steamer.  Meanwhile, 
I  have  some  friends  at  the  Ocean  House  whom  I  would 
like  to  look  up.  By  the  way,  don't  mention  to  anyone 
that  I  am  upset  by  my  daughter's  absence.  It  might 
come  to  Mrs.  Marten's  ears,  and  she  would  be  unnec- 


160  '  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

essarily  worried.  My  heart  is  slightly  affected — you 
understand  ?  " 

The  butler  understood  perfectly.  He  could  be 
trusted  not  to  cause  Mrs.  Marten  any  uneasiness. 

Then  Willard  set  out  on  the  trail  of  the  runaways, 
following  it  with  a  grim  purpose  not  to  be  balked  by 
repeated  failure.  At  the  station  he  had  little  difficulty 
in  learning  that  a  lady  and  gentleman — lady  young 
and  good-looking,  gentleman  who  walked  with  a  limp — ' 
had  taken  tickets  for  Boston,  He  was  in  Boston 
within  three  hours ;  but  Power  had  broken  the  line 
there  to  such  good  purpose  that  the  scent  failed,  for 
he  had  caused  Nancy  to  go  alone  on  a  shopping  expedi- 
tion, and  purchase  her  own  ticket  for  Burlington,  and, 
when  he  joined  her  in  a  parlor  car,  the  fact  that  they 
were  traveling  in  company  was  by  no  means  published 
to  all  the  world. 

So  Willard  returned  to  Newport,  removed  his  bag- 
gage from  the  Ocean  House — for  some  inscrutable  rea- 
son he  distrusted  Dacre's  smiling  bonhomie — and  oc- 
cupied quarters  in  a  less  important  hotel.  Changing 
his  name,  by  the  simple  expedient  of  ordering  a  sup- 
ply of  visiting  cards,  he  called  on  the  horse-breeding 
judge,  who  could  facilitate  his  seemingly  eager  quest 
for  Power  only  by  telling  him  to  send  a  letter  to  the 
care  of  a  New  York  bank.  This  was  something  gained, 
and  he  hurried  to  New  York,  where,  of  course,  he  was 
suavely  directed  to  write,  and  the  letter  would  be 
forwarded. 

Driven  to  his  wits'  end  after  a  week  of  furtive  vis- 
its to  restaurants,  on  the  off  chance  that  the  fugitives 
might  really  be  in  the  metropolitan  city,  he  employed 


The  Chase  161 

a  private  inquiry  agent,  and,  five  days  later,  received 
the  first  definite  news.  A  "  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Darien 
Power  "  had  registered  at  the  Lake  Champlain  Hotel 
on  the  evening  of  the  day  of  Nancy's  flight,  and  had 
gone  into  the  Adirondacks  next  morning! 

On  the  principle  that  it  never  rains  but  it  pours, 
quick  on  the  heels  of  this  startling  intelligence  came 
a  letter  from  Nancy.  It  had  been  sent  to  Denver,  and 
some  bungle  in  readdressing  it  had  caused  a  prolonged 
delay.  It  was  brief  and  to  the  point,  and  had  been 
posted  at  Boston. 

"  My  dear  Father  [she  wrote]  . — It  will  cause  you  much 
distress,  but  not  any  real  surprise,  to  hear  that  I  have 
decided  to  dissolve  my  marriage  with  Mr.  Marten.  I  have 
met  Derry  Power,  and  now  I  know  just  what  happened  at 
Bison  when  you  forced  me  to  marry  a  man  whom  I  de- 
tested. I  forgive  you  your  share  in  that  horrible  deceit; 
but  I  cannot  forgive  Marten,  and  the  action  I  am  taking 
renders  it  impossible  that  he  and  I  should  ever  meet  again. 
You  will  learn  the  why  and  the  wherefore  in  due  course. 
Meanwhile,  I  hope  you  will  not  take  this  thing  too  deeply 
to  heart,  and  I  look  forward  to  our  reunion  in  more  peace- 
ful days.  When  the  divorce  proceedings  are  ended,  and 
Derry  and  I  are  married,  I  shall  tell  you  where  to  find 
me.  By  that  time,  perhaps,  you  will  have  decided  to  ac- 
cept the  inevitable,  and  let  the  past  be  forgotten.  I  am 
well,  and  happy — very,  very  happy. 

"  Your  loving, 

"  Nancy." 

Willard  brooded  long  over  this  straightforward 
message.    He  was  blind  and  deaf  to  its  gentle  reproach, 


162  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

finding  in  it  only  a  confirmation  of  his  worst  fears. 
There  was  no  need  now  to  map  out  a  course  of  action ; 
he  had  limned  that  in  the  main  before  leaving  New- 
port. Vengeance  on  Power,  vengeance  ample  and  com- 
plete, was  what  he  craved  for.  He  understood,  in 
some  furtive  and  perverted  way,  that  he  could  not  strike 
a  mortal  blow  at  a  man  of  Power's  temperament  by 
using  the  bludgeons  of  the  law  to  expiate  an  offense 
against  society.  Both  Nancy  and  her  lover  must  have 
discounted  the  effect  of  the  social  pillory  before  they 
transgressed  its  code  beyond  redemption.  Indeed,  they 
would  hail  with  joy  the  edict  which  banned  them — ^be 
it  proclaimed  from  the  housetops  and  carried  round 
the  earth  by  the  myriad-tongued  press!  Nancy's  let- 
ter, too,  showed  that  she  would  not  scruple  to  make 
known  her  defense,  and  Willard  was  well  aware  that 
it  would  serve  to  rehabilitate  her  in  the  eyes  of  her 
friends. 

So  he  had  devised  a  ghoulish  and  crafty  punishment, 
which,  the  more  he  pondered  it,  the  more  subtle  and 
effective  did  it  appear.  As  the  scheme  grew  in  his 
imagination,  he  almost  hugged  himself  in  rapturous 
approval  of  it.  So  warped  was  his  mind  that  he 
might  have  discovered,  were  he  capable  of  making  an 
honest  analysis  of  motives,  that  he  was  actually  gloat- 
ing over  the  position  in  which  his  daughter  was  placed 
if  only  because  of  the  weapon  it  placed  in  his  hands 
against  Power. 

To  succeed,  two  conditions  were  necessary — ^Power 
must  not  have  written  to  his  mother,  nor  Nancy  to 
her  husband.  To  his  thinking,  neither  of  these  eventu- 
alities was  likely.    The  very  environment  of  the  woods 


The  Cha^e  163 

and  lakes  of  the  Adirondacks  forbade  the  notion.  If 
he  was  right,  he  would  turn  Power's  dream  of  happi- 
ness into  bitterest  gall;  if  wrong,  there  was  still  an- 
other alternative,  deadlier,  more  lurid,  but  far  from 
being  so  attractive  to  a  mean  and  rather  cowardly  na- 
ture. Time  alone  would  show  which  project  promised 
success — to  fail  in  both  was  nearly,  if  not  quite,  im- 
possible. 

Meanwhile,  no  painted  Indian  ever  camped  on  the 
trail  of  unsuspecting  pioneer  with  more  malign  intent 
and  rancorous  tenacity  than  Willard  displayed  in  his 
pursuit  and  tracking  of  the  erring  pair.  He  was  not 
a  righteously  incensed  father,  but  a  disappointed  man 
who  saw  within  his  grasp  the  means  of  glutting  the 
stored  malice  of  years.  To  appreciate  to  the  full 
Willard's  mental  processes  at  this  period  of  his  life, 
not  only  his  double-dealing  in  the  matter  of  Nancy's 
marriage,  but  his  vain  longings  for  the  lost  wealth  of 
the  Dolores  Ranch,  must  be  taken  into  account.  Even 
then,  his  apologist  might  plead  an  obsession  mount- 
ing almost  to  insanity.  Nothing  else  would  explain 
his  actions ;  but  no  words  could  palliate  them,  for  the 
ruthless  Pawnee  he  resembled  would  assuredly  have 
chosen  a  less  ignoble  revenge. 


CHAPTER  X 
NANCY  DECIDES 

A  LONG  spur  of  the  Adirondack  Mountains 
stretches  across  Hamilton  County  from  northeast  to 
southwest.  In  a  hollow  on  the  western  slopes  of  the 
range  nestles  Forked  Lake.  Some  five  or  six  miles 
nearer  the  watershed,  and  some  hundreds  of  feet  higher 
in  altitude,  lies  a  smaller  and  prettier  lake,  difficult 
of  access,  and  far  from  the  beaten  track  of  tourists. 
Hither,  by  devious  paths,  Power  had  brought  Nancy. 
A  guide,  hired  at  Elizabethtown,  was  enthusiastic  about 
the  fishing  in  that  particular  sheet  of  water,  and  he 
vouched  for  it  that  there  was  quarry  in  plenty  for 
gun  as  well  as  rod;  moreover,  attracted  by  the  sport 
and  scenery,  he  had  built  a  hut  on  the  unfrequented  side 
of  the  lake,  in  which  were  stored  a  sufficiency  of  rough 
furniture,  some  cooking  utensils,  and  a  canoe.  Given 
fine  weather  and  good  health,  what  more  did  anyone 
want  ? 

"  Let  us  go  there  at  once,  Derry,"  said  Nancy.  "  A 
cabin  among  trees  on  the  shore  of  a  lake  has  always 
been  my  dream." 

"  It  sounds  almost  too  idyllic,"  said  Power,  trying 
to  be  cynical ;  "  but  we'll  hire  the  outfit  for  a  week, 
and  move  on  to  the  next  caravan  in  a  day  if  we  don't 
like  it." 

They  arrived   at  night,   in  a  drenching  downpour 

164 


Nancy  Decides  165 

of  rain,  the  outcome  of  the  first  and  only  thunder- 
storm of  the  season,  and  were  inclined  consequently 
to  view  with  critical  eyes  the  accommodation  at  their 
disposal.  The  owner  of  the  property,  who  also  owned 
a  peculiar  name,  Peter  Granite,  had  gone  to  a  wood 
hutch  for  dry  fuel,  and  Power  divested  Nancy  of  a 
dripping  waterproof;  while  Peter's  dog,  a  nondescript 
of  the  hound  type,  known  as  "  Guess,"  shook  his  shaggy 
fur  noisily. 

"  *  Peter  '  and  *  Granite  '  each  signifies  *rock,'  "  he 
whispered ;  "  but  Guess  seems  to  be  of  opinion  that  we 
are  stranded  in  a  swamp."    Incidentally,  he  kissed  her. 

"  Hush !  I  have  faith  in  Peter.  He  told  me  today 
that  some  famous  author  came  here  every  summer  till 
he  died ;  so  the  place  must  have  a  charm  of  its  own. 

"  Perhaps  the  famous  author  was  a  detached  soul ; 
in  other  words,  a  queer  fish." 

"  And  perhaps  you'll  get  that  wet  coat  off,  and 
make  yourself  useful.  Please  strike  a  match.  If  it 
were  not  for  Guess,  I  should  be  sure  that  something  was 
going  to  leap  out  of  the  dark  and  grab  me." 

So  Nancy  was  admittedly  a  trifle  nervous;  but  the 
feeling  passed  at  once  when  Granite  had  a  fire  roar- 
ing in  a  stove,  and  an  oil  lamp  was  swinging  from  a 
hook,  and  the  cabin  was  filled  with  warmth,  and  the 
grateful  scent  of  a  stew  mixed  with  the  steam  of  dry- 
ing dog  and  garments.  The  sleeping  arrangements 
were  so  primitive,  however,  that  Nancy  dared  not  un- 
dress. Every  inch  of  the  tiny  bedroom  was  lit  by 
lightning  almost  incessantly,  and  the  constant  drip- 
ping of  water  from  the  roof,  added  to  the  howling  and 
whistling*  of  the  wind,  kept  her  and  Power  awake  till 


166  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

long  after  midnight.  They  would  have  risen  and  gone 
back  to  the  more  comfortable  living-room,  where  the 
stove  might  have  induced  drowsiness,  and  Power  could 
smoke,  at  least,  but  certain  regular  sounds  from  that 
quarter  revealed  that  Granite  cared  little  for  the  storm, 
was  even  expressing  his  unconscious  contempt  for  it 
audibly;  while  Guess  had  met  some  lifelong  foe  in  his 
dreams  and  was  fighting  a  Homeric  battle. 

To  while  away  the  slow-moving  hours,  and  perchance 
close  their  senses  to  the  external  uproar,  the  lovers 
talked,  or,  rather,  Nancy  talked  and  Power  listened. 
A  casual  reference  to  some  such  wild  night  in  France 
led  the  girl  to  discourse  of  her  Parisian  friends,  and 
she  gave  full  play  to  a  ready  wit  and  gift  of  close  yet 
kindly  and  humorous  observation  which,  in  different 
conditions,  would  certainly  have  won  her  a  place  among 
contemporary  writers  on  French  life  and  manners. 
American  ways  and  habits  of  thought  owe  so  much 
to  the  Gallic  leaven  introduced  at  the  beginning  of  the 
eighteenth  century  that  a  modem  American  woman  as- 
similates French  ideas  with  more  ease  and  surer  touch 
than  her  British  sister;  so  Nancy  would  have  brought 
to  the  task  both  racial  sympathy  and  natural  equip- 
ment. She  knew  Daudet  and  TurgeniefF — ^had  been 
present  at  one  of  their  famous  quarrels — and  her  de- 
scription of  the  Russian's  unbridled  fury  and  the 
Frenchman's  ironic  good  temper  caused  the  scene  to 
live  again.  She  spoke  French  fluently,  had  even 
gleaned  some  scraps  of  Russian,  and  Power  found  him- 
self transported  in  imagination  to  the  brilliant  salons 
where  litterateurs  like  Zola  and  Coppee  bickered,  where 
artists  like  Rodin  and  Bonnat  founded  schools,  where 


Nancy  Decides  167 

Massenet  played  snatches  of  operas  yet  to  reach  the 
ear  of  a  wider  world,  where  the  men  and  women  who 
occupied  the  stage  in  the  Dreyfus  drama  were  already 
stabbing  reputations  with  poison-tipped  epigrams. 

Often  she  brought  laughter  to  his  lips ;  as,  for  in- 
stance, when  she  spoke  of  the  beautiful  and  fascinat- 
ing wife  of  a  struggling  artist,  a  lady  notorious  in 
many  walks  of  life,  who  attended  a  fancy-dress  ball 
at  the  American  Embassy.  "  Ah,"  said  someone  to 
the  Duchesse  de  Brasnes,  "  here  comes  the  latest  star, 
gotten  up  appropriately  as  Madame  Recamier ! " 
"  No,"  chirped  the  witty  old  lady  instantly.  "  You 
have  given  her  the  wrong  name.  You  mean  Madame 
Reclamier ! " 

Luckily,  Power's  acquaintance  with  the  French  lan- 
guage was  close  enough  to  enable  him  to  appreciate 
the  caustic  humor  of  the  words.  He  was  far  too  ab- 
sorbed then  in  the  girl's  vivid  impressions  of  personali- 
ties familiar  to  him  only  in  the  columns  of  newspapers 
to  indulge  in  speculation  as  to  the  why  and  the  where- 
fore of  this  flow  of  anecdote  and  quaintly  analytical 
glimpses  of  character.  But  he  understood  later. 
During  three  long  years  she  had  existed  in  an  atmos- 
phere that  checked  every  natural  impulse.  She  had 
become  a  statue,  beautiful  but  impassive.  Now  she 
was  once  more  a  woman.  The  marble  was  coming 
to  life.  Love  had  breathed  on  her,  and  the  red  blood 
was  flowing  freely  in  her  veins. 

He  could  have  listened  till  dawn ;  but  the  sweet  voice 
suddenly  grew  husky,  and  she  expressed  a  desire  to 
rest. 

"Derry,"  she  said,  with  the  unthinking  confidence 


168  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

of  a  tired  child,  "  let  me  lean  my  head  on  your  shoul- 
der. With  your  arm  around  me,  I  do  believe  I  can 
forget  even  this  dreadful  lightning." 

Within  a  minute  she  was  asleep.  She  merely  smiled 
and  murmured  something  about  "  putting  the  light 
out "  when  he  laid  her  gently  in  a  roughly  carpentered 
but  fairly  comfortable  bunk,  and  covered  her  with  a 
rug.  Then  he,  too,  after  a  brief  vigil  to  assure  him- 
self that  she  would  not  waken,  stretched  himself  in 
the  second  bunk. 

When  next  they  opened  their  eyes  the  sun  was  shining 
from  a  cloudless  sky,  and  Peter  was  shouting  that  they 
just  had  time  to  dip  their  hands  and  faces  in  the  lake 
before  the  "  cawfee  kem  to  a  bile." 

They  were  out  in  a  jifFy,  and  found  themselves  in 
a  fairyland.  On  the  one  hand,  green  and  blue  moun- 
tains rose  in  an  almost  unscalable  rampart;  on  the 
other,  across  two  miles  of  a  silvery  mirror  ordinarily 
a  lake,  a  wooded  landscape  fell  away  in  gorgeous  tints 
and  ineffable  distances.  The  song  of  birds  trilled  in 
the  air,  and  the  fresh,  keen  scent  of  the  rain-washed 
pines  was  pungent  in  their  nostrils.  After  one  de- 
lighted glance  at  this  circumambient  Paradise,  they 
raced  to  the  water,  and,  as  they  ran,  Nancy  noticed 
the  phenomenally  clean-cut  reflection  of  the  opposite 
shore. 

"  Derry,"  she  cried,  "just  look  at  that  picture! 
Can  you  wonder  if  I  hardly  know  whether  I  am  stand- 
ing on  my  head  or  my  heels  ?  " 

Perhaps,  of  all  the  tender  memories  which  Power 
has  hoarded  through  the  years,  he  is  most  tenacious 
of  his  recollection  of  Nancy  as  she  was  that  morning. 


Nancy  Decides  169 

She  seemed  some  wood-nymph  clothed  in  the  garments 
of  civilization,  that  modern  cult  which  the  Greeks, 
those  true  poets  and  clear  thinkers,  would  have  scoffed 
at.  Yet,  so  graceful  were  her  movements,  so  bewitch- 
ing her  mobile  face,  so  artistic  the  careless  knot  into 
which  she  had  twisted  her  wealth  of  nut-brown  hair, 
that  not  even  the  Boston  tailor  of  a  bygone  generation 
who  had  equipped  her  at  sight  with  a  fawn-colored 
coat  and  skirt  could  hide  the  symmetry  of  her  form 
or  impair  her  winsome  beauty. 

The  lake  was  oval  in  shape,  and  an  imaginary  line 
drawn  from  shore  to  shore  at  its  center  would  meas- 
ure more  than  a  mile.  The  hut  stood  half  a  mile 
north  of  the  eastern  end  of  this  line,  and  a  summer 
hotel,  patronized  mostly  by  zealots  of  rod  and  hook, 
lay  half  a  mile  south  of  it  on  the  opposite  side.  Thus, 
except  on  the  rare  occasions  when  a  fishing  canoe  came 
that  way — and  the  water  was  so  alive  with  fish  that 
the  requisite  paddling  meant  so  much  wasted  time  and 
effort — they  were  absolutely  shut  off  from  the  world. 
Even  while  they  were  scampering  to  the  spot  where 
they  had  landed  the  night  before.  Power  was  noting 
a  tree-shrouded  creek  where  a  tiny  stream  from  the 
hills  babbled  the  last  of  its  brief  life  into  the  placid 
bosom  of  the  lake.  There,  he  decided,  it  would  be 
easy  to  contrive  an  admirable  bathing-place  for  Nancy, 
as  she  was  only  a  timid  swimmer,  having  acquired  the 
art  quite  recently.  He  himself  was  equally  at  home 
in  sea,  river,  and  lake.  On  one  occasion,  during  his 
engineering  novitiate,  he  had  swum  across  the  Arkansas 
River  when  it  was  almost  at  flood  level,  and  it  needs 
those  who  have  seen  and  heard  that  turbulent  stream 


170  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

roaring  through  its  rocky  canyons  between  Pueblo  and 
Las  Animas  to  appreciate  the  feat  at  its  true  worth. 

Then  he  would  teach  her  how  to  fish  and  shoot; 
for  they  must  be  self-supporting  to  a  large  extent, 
though  the  hotel  provided  a  well-equipped  base  for  this 
foray  into  the  wilds  of  the  Adirondacks.  Yes,  they 
would  have  a  glorious  time,  living  like  Indians,  yet  tem- 
pering their  savagery  by  the  sweet  communion  of  kin- 
dred souls,  with  never  a  newspaper  nearer  than  the 
hotel,  their  address  a  tangle  of  wooded  mountains,  and 
their  solitary  book  a  copy  of  Milton's  poems,  which, 
Nancy  had  said  once  in  Newport,  she  had  never  ap- 
preciated properly,  and  which  Power,  an  enthusiast, 
had  recommended  to  her  close  study  as  the  well  of 
English,  pure  and  undefiled. 

Nor  was  their  earliest  day-dream  any  fantasy,  or 
other  than  a  superficial  glimpse  of  delights  which  ex- 
panded hourly  before  their  enraptured  vision.  A  whole 
fortnight  slipped  away  so  rapidly  in  this  Elysium  that 
Nancy,  keeping  a  housewifely  eye  on  stores,  discovered 
the  flight  of  time  only  by  the  urgent  need  of  re- 
plenishing a  cupboard  bare  of  coff^ee,  and  sugar,  and 
bacon,  and  other  essentials,  notably  matches;  for  the 
summer  camp  has  yet  to  be  built  in  which  the  supply 
of  matches  has  endured  to  the  end. 

Usually,  when  a  visit  to  the  hotel  became  necessary, 
Peter  Granite  took  the  canoe,  while  Derry  and  Nancy, 
escorted  by  Guess,  rambled  off  for  the  day  into  the 
hills  behind  the  hut.  They  had  no  fear  of  getting 
lost,  because  Power  was  endowed  with  a  sixth  sense 
in  all  matters  pertaining  to  topography,  while  the 
dog  was  credited  by  his  master  with  an  infallible  knowl- 


Nancy  Decides  171 

edge  of  the  homeward  way  at  dinnertime.  But  on 
this  day,  by  unhappy  chance,  Nancy  announced  that 
she  wanted  the  cabin  clear  of  men  while  she  indulged 
in  a  feminine  foible,  common  to  all  her  sex,  known  as 
spring  cleaning.  Season  or  clime  is  immaterial;  when 
that  microbe  seizes  a  woman  she  has  to  undergo  the 
disease  from  the  earliest  symptoms  to  complete  con- 
valescence. The  premonitory  signs  are  unmistakable. 
She  begins  by  a  ruthless  survey  of  corners,  floors, 
spidery  rafters,  and  grimy  windows.  Her  eyes  spar- 
kle, she  turns  up  the  sleeves  of  her  blouse,  dons  an 
apron,  and  arranges  for  unlimited  quantities  of  hot 
water  and  soap.  Nancy  possessed  no  apron;  but  a 
square  of  sacking  and  some  cord  soon  settled  that 
difficulty. 

Therefore,  deeming  themselves  wise,  Derry  and  Peter 
fled,  leaving  the  dog  and  a  double-barreled  shotgun  as 
safeguards.  Not  that  any  sort  of  protection  was 
needed  in  that  favored  region.  The  predatory  tramp 
cannot  exist  there;  the  inhabitants  are  the  most  cour- 
teous and  law-abiding  people  in  America;  the  only 
strangers  are  city  holiday-makers  of  the  quiet  and 
cultured  type. 

The  men  promised  to  remain  away  two  hours.  Con- 
sidering the  time  altogether  too  short  for  the  thorough 
cleansing  of  the  hut,  Nancy  set  to  work  with  a  will, 
and  when  first  she  thought  of  glancing  at  her  watch 
she  found  that  one  hour  had  sped  already.  Guess  was 
sitting  in  the  sun,  blinking  lazily  at  a  beetle  which 
had  been  disturbed,  and  was  now  scuttling  away  for 
dear  life.  Possibly  the  dog  was  wondering  why  un- 
easy mortals  should  not  rest  when  not  hunting ;  but,  de- 


172  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

spite  his  canine  philosophy,  he  was  keeping  watch  and 
ward  with  due  vigilance,  for  he  rose  suddenly,  and 
growled. 

Nancy  knew  that  he  hardly  ever  barked;  but  his 
growl  was  an  unfailing  indication  of  the  near  pres- 
ence of  some  intruder ;  whether  man  or  animal  remained 
to  be  seen.  An  occasional  wolf,  and  a  species  of  small 
black  bear — the  latter  very  scarce — were  the  only  dan- 
gerous creatures  which  could  possibly  come  near  the 
cabin,  and  then  only  by  accident ;  so  Nancy  was  merely 
obeying  Peter's  behests  in  picking  up  the  gun,  and 
making  sure  that  both  barrels  were  loaded,  before  go- 
ing to  investigate  the  cause  of  the  dog's  uneasiness. 
Out  of  the  tail  of  her  eye  she  noted  that  he  had  stalked 
away  deliberately  toward  the  back  of  the  cabin.  What- 
ever It  was  that  had  disturbed  his  siesta,  he  was  still 
bidding  it  defiance;  so  she  hurried  somewhat,  and,  the 
morning  sun  being  In  her  eyes,  saw,  without  instant 
recognition,  a  man  of  small  stature  standing  motion- 
less some  yards  away  among  the  undergrowth. 

Then  a  well-remembered  voice  chilled  her  heart  with 
terror;  for  her  father  cried  angrily: 

"  Call  that  brute  off !  He  looks  like  flying  at  my 
throat!" 

During  a  few  seconds  of  Icy  fear  and  foreboding  she 
could  neither  move  nor  speak.  The  dog,  quick  to  learn 
that  this  stranger  was  unwelcome,  snarled  with  louder 
menace,  and  the  fur  rose  along  his  spine. 

"  Do  you  hear  ?  "  shouted  Willard,  now  thoroughly 
alarmed.    "  Do  you  want  me  to  shoot  him  ?  " 

"  Down,  Guess ! "  she  contrived  to  say,  In  a  queer 
falsetto ;  for  her  tongue  seemed  palsied,  and  her  throat 


Nancy  Decides  173 

had  gone  dry.  But  the  mechanical  effort  at  speech 
served  to  restore  her  faculties,  and  she  continued  more 
naturally : 

"  You  startled  both  Guess  and  myself,  Father.  The 
dog  will  not  hurt  you.  Use  his  name — Guess.  Then 
he  will  wag  his  tail  and  make  friends." 

Guess,  however,  belied  this  good  character.  He  al- 
lowed Willard  to  approach;  but  eyed  him  with  covert 
suspicion.  In  her  panic  of  distress  and  apprehension 
the  girl  had  forgotten  that  her  father  was  one  of 
that  small  company  of  human  beings  who  dislike  dogs, 
and  whose  antipathy  is  returned  in  double  measure  by 
the  animal  which,  above  all  others,  is  regarded  as  the 
friend  of  man.  Still,  Guess  obeyed  orders,  with  reser- 
vations, anS  contented  himself  by  displaying  an  alert 
watchfulness  widely  at  variance  with  his  earlier  state 
of  dignified  repose. 

"  Of  course,  you  know  why  I  am  here  ?  "  began  Wil- 
lard, smiling  complacently.  Nancy's  evident  agita- 
tion put  him  at  once  in  a  superior  position,  and  his 
mean  soul  rejoiced  in  the  fact;  for  it  was  he  who  should 
be  afraid,  and  not  his  daughter. 

"  No,"  she  faltered,  turning  her  frightened  eyes  to- 
ward the  lake. 

Oh,  if  Derry  would  only  come  back  sooner  than  he 
had  promised!  She  half  formed  a  desperate  resolve 
to  fire  both  barrels  of  the  gun,  and  thus  summon 
him  with  all  speed,  because  the  reports  would  be 
heard  easily  across  that  mile  and  a  half  of  placid 
water. 

"  I've  come  to  take  you  away,"  said  the  harsh  voice 
at  her  shoulder.     "  I  got  your  letter,  and  managed 


174  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

to  find  out  where  you  were  hiding.  Now  you  murt  come 
with  me,  straight  away,  do  you  understand  ?  " 

The  sheer  absurdity  of  his  querulous  words  helped 
to  stem  the  rising  flood  of  agony  which  threatened  to 
overwhelm  her;  for  at  that  moment  she  was  nearer 
to  fainting  than  she  had  ever  been  before. 

"  You  had  better  have  stayed  away  than  come  here 
in  anger  and  ask  a  thing  that  is  impossible,"  she  said. 

"  Impossible !  Nothing  is  impossible — to  a  woman. 
Your  husband  knows  nothing  of  your  conduct.  No 
one  in  the  world  knows,  except  myself." 

If  Nancy  were  not  quite  distraught  and  bereft  of 
her  quick  intelligence,  she  would  have  detected  a  note 
of  breathless  questioning  and  doubt  in  that  confident 
assertion.  Willard  could  not  be  certain  that  neither 
she  nor  Power  had  written  to  Marten;  he  had  staked 
all,  or  nearly  all,  on  ascertaining  the  fact  during  the 
first  outburst  of  talk,  while  the  girl  was  still  quaking 
with  fright  at  his  unexpected  appearance.  He  was 
well  aware  of  her  courage  and  adroitness.  When  she 
regained  self-control — a  matter  of  a  minute  or  less — r 
she  might  be  clear-sighted  enough  to  grasp  the  para- 
mount importance  of  the  admission  that  she  had  not 
as  yet  placed  an  insuperable  barrier  between  herself 
and  the  man  she  had  cast  off.  Once  alive  to  its  vital 
significance,  he  thought,  she  would  either  deceive  him 
deliberately,  and  take  the  earliest  opportunity  of  recti- 
fying an  error  in  strategy,  or,  at  any  rate,  keep  him 
in  ignorance  of  the  exact  position  of  affairs.  Unhap- 
pily, he  counted  well.  Nancy  was  far  too  dismayed 
by  his  presence  to  pay  heed  to  tricks  and  turns  of 
speech. 


Nancy  Decides  175 

"  Father,"  she  said  brokenly,  "  I  have  so  much  to 
endure  that  you,  for  one,  should  spare  me  your 
taunts." 

"  I'm  not  taunting  you,"  he  urged.  "  I  want  to 
save  you  from  yourself.  By  a  stroke  of  good  luck  I 
was  able  to  make  it  appear  that  you  and  I  missed  each 
other  in  Newport,  owing  to  a  railroad  accident.  Your 
friends  on  the  island  believe  you  are  with  me  in  New 
York.  If  we  were  to  arrive  at  Newport  tomorrow,  not 
a  living  soul,  except  me,  would  know  what  has  hap- 
pened. I  shall  be  dumb,  you  may  well  believe,  and  I 
suppose  your — this  fellow  Power — will  hold  his  tongue? 
Surely  he  is  man  enough  for  that ! " 

Beneath  the  brown  of  sun  and  air,  Nancy's  fore- 
head and  cheeks  had  assumed  the  pallor  of  camaieu 
grisy  that  wan  tint  with  which  the  monkish  illuminators 
of  missals  were  wont  to  depict  the  sufferings  of  mar- 
tyrs ;  but  they  now  flushed  with  the  red  stain  of  un- 
flinching resolve,  for  her  father's  loathsome  sugges- 
tions aroused  all  that  was  high-minded  and  virile  in  her 
character. 

She  withdrew  a  pace,  and  threw  the  gun  across  her 
body  as  though  to  protect  herself  from  an  assassin's 
knife. 

"  How  can  you  so  demean  yourself?  "  she  cried  hys- 
terically. "  Go  away,  and  never  let  us  meet  again  un- 
til you  have  taught  yourself  to  think  decently!  Re- 
turn to  Hugh  Marten  now?  Leave  the  man  I  love, 
and  act  the  part  of  a  faithful  wife  to  one  whom  I  hate? 
Even  Marten,  bad  as  he  is,  would  shudder  at  the 
thought  if  he  could  hear  you  utter  it ! " 

Willard  smiled  again  in  ghastly  humor.     At  least. 


176  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

there  was  one  obstacle  the  less.  She  had  not  written! 
But  his  ill-timed  mirth  changed  quickly  to  a  snarl; 
for  Guess  had  interpreted  this  angry  scene  in  his  own 
way,  and  was  ready  to  begin  a  fray  already  postponed 
unduly. 

"  Can't  you  beat  off  this  damned  dog?  "  came  the 
cry.  "  Let  us  go  into  the  house,  and  tell  the  cur  to 
stop  outside." 

Once  again  was  Nancy  prompted  to  fire  the  signal 
that  would  bring  Power  in  hot  haste  to  her  side;  but 
she  repressed  the  notion,  deeming  herself  calmer  now, 
more  assured,  more  confident  in  the  justice  of  her  cause 
and  her  ability  to  set  it  forth  convincingly.  Indeed, 
her  bewildered  brain  was  actively  at  work  already  de- 
vising means  whereby  Derry  and  her  father  should 
be  kept  apart.  She  did  not  want  them  to  quarrel  be- 
yond redemption.  Time,  she  hoped  and  believed,  would 
assuage  present  bitterness,  and,  if  the  gods  were  kind, 
the  coming  years  might  find  the  older  man  in  a  mood 
to  yield  to  other  claims  on  his  forgiveness. 

"  Lie  down,  Guess !  "  she  said,  patting  the  dog's  head. 
"  Just  curl  up  there  in  the  sun.  Yes,  that's  a  dear ! 
Lie  down ! " 

Guess  did  not  curl  up;  but  stretched  himself  on  the 
grass  in  front  of  the  door,  resting  his  head  between 
his  paws,  and  keeping  a  pair  of  particularly  bright 
eyes  fixed  on  Willard.  He  would  have  treated  a  tame 
snake  or  a  performing  bear  in  much  the  same  way,  if 
so  bidden  by  someone  whom  he  trusted. 

Father  and  daughter  entered  the  cabin,  which  was 
all  of  a  jumble  owing  to  the  cleansing  operations. 
Nancy  unloaded  the  gun — ^why,  she  hardly  knew,  be- 


Nancy  Decides  177 

cause  that  was  the  first  thing  Derry  would  attend  to 
when  he  returned.  Placing  the  weapon  on  the  table, 
she  essayed  a  forlorn  smile  at  the  disorder  the  place 
was  in. 

"  Derry  and  Peter  have  gone  to  the  hotel  for  stores," 
she  said,  "  and  I  took  the  opportunity  to  tidy  our  small 
castle." 

"  I  saw  them  crossing  the  lake,"  said  Willard.  "  I 
have  been  waiting  two  days  for  the  chance  that  offered 
this  morning.  You  see,  Nancy,  you  and  I  had  to  thresh 
out  matters  between  our  two  selves.  When  all  is  said 
and  done,  the  future  concerns  us  far  more  than  any 
other  person." 

Nancy  looked  across  the  lake.  There  was  no  sign 
of  the  canoe,  and  she  was  glad  of  it. 

"  Now,  Dad,"  she  said,  tuning  her  utterance  to  a 
softer  key  in  valiant  endeavor  to  place  their  relations 
on  a  friendly  footing,  "  I  hope  you  will  try  and  think 
less  harshly  of  Derry  and  me.  What  is  done  cannot 
be  undone " 

"  It  can  be  put  straight,  which  is  the  next  best 
thing,"  broke  in  Willard  fiercely.  "  I'm  not  here  to 
listen  to  your  plans;  but  you  must  listen  to  mine!  I 
have  no  time  to  lose,  nor  have  you ;  so  I'll  put  my  mean- 
ing in  the  plainest  words  possible,  and  I'll  thank  you 
not  to  interrupt  me.  I'm  not  going  to  lecture  you  on 
morahty,  and  that  sort  of  thing — that's  not  my  busi- 
ness. I  have  followed  you  with  one  object,  and  one 
only,  and  that  is  to  take  you  back  to  your  husband. 
Don't  try  to  shut  me  up !  "  he  almost  screamed ;  for 
Nancy's  indignation  had  crimsoned  her  face  and  neck 
again,      "  You've   got   to  hear  what  I   have   to   say, 


178  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

and  it  must  be  here  and  now.  You'll  know  why  when 
I  have  finished.  I've  thought  this  wretched  affair 
through  from  A  to  Z,  and  my  way  has  to  be  your  way 
— unless  you  prefer  the  alternative.  You  either  come 
with  me  now,  this  instant,  and  promise  not  to  leave 
me  until  I  hand  you  over  to  your  husband,  or  I  shall 
shoot  Power  at  sight.  That  is  my  offer.  Take  it  or 
leave  it.  I  give  you  your  fancy  man's  life  in  exchange 
for  your  obedience.  Refuse,  and  I  fill  him  full  of  lead. 
I'm  running  no  bluff  on  you.  I  mean  just  what  I  am 
saying.  I  am  not  even  taking  any  great  risk,  because 
there  isn't  a  jury  in  America  that  would  convict  a  fa- 
ther for  killing  the  man  who  betrayed  his  daughter 
while  her  husband's  back  was  turned.  The  dirty  hound ! 
I've  got  both  him  and  you  in  a  tight  place,  and  now 
you're  going  to  suffer,  each  of  you.  Condemn  him 
to  death  if  you  like.  I  don't  care  a  red  cent  which 
way  your  choice  goes.  But,  if  you  want  him  to  live, 
you  must  return  to  Marten,  and  be  his  good  and 
loving  wife  once  more.  No,  you  gain  nothing  by 
shrinking  away  in  horror  at  the  notion.  Nor  will 
death  serve  your  ends,  since  a  silly  woman  would  think 
little  of  giving  her  life  to  save  her  lover.  You  have 
my  full  and  complete  terms,  no  less,  in  exchange  for 
Power's  life.  It  won't  save  him  if  you  agree  to  come 
away  with  me  and  throw  yourself  overboard  before  our 
steamer  reaches  Europe.  That  will  mean  simply  that 
I  take  the  next  boat  west,  and  kill  Power.  My  plea 
still  holds  good.  I  am  prepared  to  face  any  court  with 
the  proofs  of  my  story.  But  I  can't  waste  any  more 
time.  Which  is  it  to  be — go  or  stay — give  Power  his 
life  or  take  it?     If  you  want  to  please  me,  which  is 


Nancy  Decides  179 

about  the  last  thing  you  would  think  of,  refuse  to 
come  with  me,  because  I  am  aching  to  empty  these  into 
his  rotten  carcass." 

Nancy  had  shrunk  from  his  growing  frenzy  no  less 
than  from  his  monstrous  decree;  but  her  dilated  eyes 
were  fixed  on  his,  utterly  regardless  of  the  brace  of 
heavy-caliber  revolvers  he  had  produced,  apparently  to 
lend  a  theatrical  effect  to  his  words.  In  truth,  the  man 
had  no  such  thought  in  his  mind.  He  was  beyond  the 
reach  of  any  impulse  of  that  sort.  His  maniacal  fury 
was  real  enough  to  convince  the  most  skeptical  that  he 
fully  intended  every  word  of  that  murderous  threat. 
Nor  did  the  distracted  girl  harbor  any  doubt  on  that 
score.  Suddenly,  awfully,  she  had  been  scourged  to  the 
verge  of  a  precipice,  and  it  was  borne  in  on  her  she 
had  no  option  but  to  make  the  heartrending  decision 
which  the  man  whom  she  had  once  loved  as  a  father 
was  forcing  on  her. 

Her  very  lips  blanched,  and  she  gazed  at  Wil- 
lard  with  all  the  hatred  and  passionate  scorn  of  a 
woman  wronged  beyond  redress. 

"  You — you — "  she  gasped  incoherently,  "  you  are 
not  God!  It  is  God  alone  who  wields  such  power 
over  men  and  women.  He,  and  He  only,  may  pro- 
nounce a  decree  of  life  or  death  against  those  who 
have  sinned — not  you,  a  man  who  sold  his  own  daugh- 
ter for  money ! " 

"  Power  told  you  that,  did  he?  The  story  came  well 
from  the  mouth  of  the  cheat  who  robbed  me  of  my 
property." 

"  But  that  is  a  lie.  Why  demean  yourself  by  ut- 
tering such  a  plea .?  " 


180  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

"  We  can  argue  the  rights  and  wrongs  of  the  mat- 
ter some  other  time.  Are  you  coming  with  me,  or 
not?  " 

"  No,  a  thousand  times  no !  "  she  almost  shrieked. 

Willard  repocketed  the  pistols,  and  turned  to  leave 
the  hut.  "  That's  right !  "  he  chuckled  sardonically. 
"  I'd  as  soon  have  it  that  way  as  the  other." 

Nancy  was  quite  beside  herself  with  agony,  or  she 
would  never  have  snatched  up  the  gun  and  held  it 
pointblank  at  his  back. 

"  Stop !  "  she  screamed.  "  Stop,  or  I  vow  to  Heaven 
I'll  fire !  " 

He  faced  her  again,  and  his  frenzy  was  comparable 
only  with  that  of  the  distracted  girl  who  threatened 
him. 

"  If  you  want  to  shoot  me  you  must  reload  your 
gun,"  he  said,  and  his  face  grew  livid,  though  not  with 
fright.  "  Do  you  imagine  that  an  old  man  like  me 
fears  death?  Shoot,  I  tell  you,  and  see  if  my  last 
curse  does  not  part  you  and  Power.  Test  his  love 
by  telling  him  you  are  a  murderess — that  you  have 
killed  your  own  father.  Ask  him  to  help  in  hiding  my 
body,  and  then  cower  in  hourly  terror,  both  of  you, 
till  a  New  York  bank  sends  to  my  lawyer  the  letter 
I  have  left  in  its  charge.  Shoot  me  now,  and  I'll  die 
happy  in  the  knowledge  that  Power  and  you  will  be 
tried  for  my  murder." 

She  dropped  the  gun,  and  burst  into  a  tempest  of 
weeping;  but  her  tears  seemed  but  to  harden  Willard 
into  an  even  more  callous  and  determined  mood. 

"  Don't  you  forget  that  I  am  watching  for  the  com- 
ing of  that  canoe,"  he  said,  sinking  his  voice  to  a  note 


Nancy  Decides  181 

of  sinister  meaning.  "  If  Power  and  I  meet,  nothing 
that  you  can  do  will  save  him.  It  is  possible,  of 
course,  that  he  may  avoid  me  this  time.  You  can 
scream  a  warning,  and  he  may,  or  may  not,  skulk  off 
out  of  range.  But,  as  sure  as  there  is  a  sun  shining 
in  the  sky,  so  surely  will  I  follow  and  kill  him.  Each 
moment  you  hesitate  brings  him  nearer  the  grave.  You 
can  save  him,  if  you  like;  but  you  must  buy  his  life 
on  my  terms,  now.  It  will  be  too  late  in  a  few 
minutes." 

She  threw  herself  on  her  knees,  and  raised  her  swim- 
ming eyes  in  humblest  pleading. 

"  Father,  think  what  you  are  doing ! "  she  sobbed, 
clutching  at  his  hands  in  a  heartbroken  way.  "  I  am 
your  own  little  daughter,  the  girl  you  used  to  be  so 
proud  of,  the  girl  who  once  loved  you  dearly,  and  who 
is  ready  to  forget  the  past  and  love  you  again.  You 
would  not  condemn  me  to  the  degraded  life  of  a  woman 
who  loathes  and  has  been  unfaithful  to  her  husband,  and 
yet  permits  him  to  regard  her  as  his  wife?  I  may  be 
the  meanest  of  God's  creatures  in  your  sight ;  but  you 
are  asking  me  to  act  as  no  decent-minded  woman  can 
act,  and  live.  Ah,  nol  Do  not  speak  yet!  Listen, 
I  implore  you!  God  give  me  words  to  touch  your 
heart!  Have  you  blotted  from  your  mind  all  recol- 
lection of  our  long  years  together  on  the  ranch?  Does 
it  count  for  nothing  that  I  rejoiced  with  you  when 
times  were  good,  and  sorrowed  with  you  when  misfor- 
tunes came?  Have  you  forgotten  my  mother?  Ah, 
dear  Heaven,  my  mother!  You  loved  her,  did  you  not? 
You  have  said  you  loved  me,  not  alone  for  my  own 
sake,  but  because  I  reminded  you  of  her.    She,  at  least, 


182  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

was  good  and  pure,  and  perhaps  her  spirit  is  with 
us  now,  grieving  for  my  sin,  it  may  be,  but  surely  not 
content  with  the  dreadful  lot  you  would  impose  on 
one  who  is  your  child  and  hers.  Oh,  father  dear, 
do  not  turn  away  from  me!  Is  there  nothing  I  can 
promise  that  will  soften  your  heart?  I  will  leave 
Derry.  Yes,  I  swear  it!  To  save  him,  and  you,  I'll 
go  away  and  never  see  him  again,  writing  him  some 
cruel  lie  in  order  to  assuage  his  misery ;  but  you  shall 
not,  you  must  not,  make  my  return  to  Hugh  Marten  the 
price  of  my  obedience  to  your  will ! " 

Willard  wrenched  himself  free,  and  took  a  sheet  of 
notepaper,  an  envelop,  and  a  pencil  from  a  pocket. 
He  placed  them  on  the  rough  table,  and  stood  in  the 
doorway,  watching  the  sunlit  lake.  His  expression  was 
dour,  implacable,  malignant  in  its  ferocious  joy;  for 
he  held  Power  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand,  and  would 
relinquish  naught  of  his  vengeful  scheme. 

"  I'm  glad  to  see  you  are  convinced  that  I  mean  what 
I  have  said,"  he  announced,  speaking  in  a  cold,  bal- 
anced way  that  Nancy  knew  of  old,  and  recognized  now 
as  sounding  the  knell  of  her  hopes.  "  Unless  I  am  mis- 
taken, the  canoe  is  putting  off  from  the  hotel.  It  will 
be  here  in  twenty  minutes.  You  have  just  fi.VQ  min- 
utes to  make  up  your  mind,  and  to  write  a  farewell 
message  to  Power.  I  don't  care  what  you  say  to  him, 
so  long  as  the  break  is  final.  You  are  going  with  me 
to  Newport,  and  straight  from  there  to  London,  where 
Marten  will  join  us  in  response  to  a  cablegram  from 
me,  telling  him  that  you  are  ill.  You  had  better  stop 
crying.  Nothing  that  you  can  say  or  do,  short  of 
loading  that  gun  again  and  blowing  a  hole  in  me,  will 


Nancy  Decides  183 

change  either  my  purpose  or  my  terms,  I'll  keep  my 
word  with  regard  to  Power  if  you  keep  yours  where 
Marten  is  concerned.  He  must  never  know.  He  must 
never  see  any  change  in  you.  The  moment  he  casts 
you  off  because  of  Power,  and  I  am  still  alive,  you  sign 
Power's  death-warrant." 

Nancy  rose.  She  was  deathly  white,  and  the  tears 
still  coursed  silently  down  her  cheeks ;  but  despair  had 
benumbed  her  emotions,  and  she  spoke  calmly. 

"  You  are  sentencing  me  to  death,"  she  said. 

"  Am  I?    Then  Power  dies,  too,"  he  cried. 

"  No.  That  is  not  in  the  bond.  You  stipulate  that 
I  shall  return  to  Marten  as  his  wife,  and  that  I  am 
not  to  take  my  own  life.  But  if  my  heart  breaks,  and 
I  die,  you  will  have  glutted  your  bitter  malice  already, 
and  Derry,  too,  must  not  provide  you  with  a  victim." 

"  People  don't  die  of  broken  hearts." 

"  Every  woman  who  has  loved  will  think  differently. 
But  you  have  some  notion  of  what  is  meant  by  honor, 
I  suppose?  I  demand  your  promise  that  if  I  accom- 
pany you  now,  and  go  back  to  Marten,  and  never  at- 
tempt to  meet  Derry  again — though  that  would  be 
quite  impossible,  either  for  him  or  for  me — you  with- 
draw your  threat,  and  leave  him  in  peace  during  the 
remainder  of  your  life." 

"  I'm  not  here  to  receive  terms,  but  to  state  them." 

"  Then  he  and  I  will  fall  together  beneath  your  bul- 
lets. Before  you  shoot  him,  you  will  have  to  shoot 
me." 

"  Very  well,  then.  I  agree.  I  don't  want  to  kill  my 
own  daughter." 

"  You  have  done  that  already.     You  have  slain  her 


184$  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

soul,  and  her  poor  body  is  of  slight  importance.  Ah, 
may  Heaven  forgive  me  if  I  am  not  choosing  aright ! 
Derry,  my  own  dear  love,  you  must  never  know  that 
I  am  doing  this  for  your  sake,  or  it  will  not  be  the 
wretch  whom  once  I  called  father  who  becomes  judge 
and  jury  and  executioner  in  my  behalf!  " 

Willard,  still  turned  toward  the  lake,  heard  her  drop 
on  her  knees  again  beside  the  table.  She  wrote  a  few 
words,  very  few ;  for  her  dazed  brain  was  incapable  now 
of  framing  other  than  the  simplest  sentences.  Then 
she  sealed  the  envelop,  and  kissed  it,  and  went  out. 
Brushing  the  tears  from  her  eyes,  she  gave  one  long 
look  across  the  shimmering  water,  and  saw  a  black  dot 
which  she  knew  was  the  canoe  heading  straight  for  the 
cabin. 

"  Ah,  dear  God ! "  she  sighed,  pressing  her  clenched 
hands  to  her  breast. 

The  storm  passed  as  quickly  as  it  had  arisen.  She 
stooped,  patted  the  dog,  and  bade  him  remain  there 
on  guard.  Then,  without  ever  a  glance  at  Willard,  she 
said : 

"  I  have  made  my  choice.    I  am  ready !  " 


CHAPTER  XI 
POWER'S  HOME-COMING 

It  chanced  that  Peter  Granite  occupied  the  fore  part 
of  the  canoe;  consequently,  great  as  was  the  distance, 
he  saw  Willard  and  Nancy  leaving  the  hut  and  disap- 
pearing among  the  trees.  He  tossed  a  question  over 
his  shoulder. 

"You  hain't  been  expectin*  anyone,  hev  you?"  he 
demanded. 

"  How  do  you  mean?  " 

"I've  a  sort  o'  notion  Mrs.  Power  has  just  quit, 
with  a  man." 

"  Are  you  sure?  " 

"  Yep." 

"  Someone  must  have  happened  on  the  cabin.  Per- 
haps she  is  showing  him  the  road  to  the  divide.  Was 
the  dog  with  her?  " 

"  I  hain't  seen  Guess ;  but  a  mile  an*  a  half  across 
this  yer  shinin'  water  is  a  long  ways  ter  spot  a  dawg." 

"  Oh,  well,  there's  nothing  to  worry  about.  We  don't 
quite  own  the  earth;  though  one  might  come  to  think 
along  that  line  after  living  here  a  spell." 

Nothing  more  was  said;  but  both  men  plied  their 
paddles  with  strong,  sweeping  strokes  that  drove  the 
canoe  onward  at  a  rare  pace.  When  she  grounded, 
Power  sprang  ashore,  and  did  not  wait,  as  was  his  wont, 
to  help  with  the  packages.     Already  he  felt  anxious, 

185 


186  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

because  Nancy  had  not  appeared  in  or  about  the  hut, 
and  the  dog  was  now  plainly  visible,  lying  in  front 
of  the  open  door. 

"  Nancy !  "  he  shouted. 

There  was  no  answer;  but  Guess  rose,  yawned,  and 
stretched  his  limbs,  his  vigil  being  ended.  Power 
shouted  again,  more  loudly,  and  Granite,  having  drawn 
the  canoe  high  and  dry,  joined  him,  leaving  the  un- 
loading of  the  provisions  until  a  less  troubled  moment. 

"  It  ain't  jest  like  Mrs.  Power  not  ter  be  within 
hail,"  said  the  guide.  "  Hurry  up  to  the  shack,  Mr. 
Power,  an'  put  Guess  on  her  trail  if  she  ain't  havin'  a 
snooze  in  the  back  room." 

"  She  wouldn't  be  asleep  at  this  hour.  And  you  saw 
her,  you  said?  " 

"  I  might  ha  been  mistook.  My  eyes  ain't  so  good 
as  they  was." 

Power  broke  into  a  run,  and  Granite  followed  slowly, 
those  keen  eyes  of  his,  which  ill-deserved  the  charge  he 
had  levied  against  them,  searching  the  trees  and  the 
broken  ground  behind  the  hut  for  some  sign  of  the  two 
people  whom  he  had  undoubtedly  observed. 

With  one  last  cry  of  "  Nancy !  "  Power  hurried  past 
the  dog,  who  was  greeting  him  with  tail-wagging  and 
a  rumbling  growl  which  meant,  "  I'm  glad  you've  come 
back,  but  why  didn't  you  come  sooner?  "  He  peered 
through  the  doorway  into  the  room  beyond,  and  his 
glance  fell  on  the  note,  resting  on  the  table  beside  the 
gun. 

"  Oh,  it's  all  right,"  he  announced,  in  a  tone  of  vast 
relief.  "  Someone  has  called  her  away,  and  here  is  the 
explanation." 


Power's  Home-Coming  187 

Meanwhile,  the  dog  was  obviously  inviting  his  master 
to  a  scouting  expedition  among  the  trees  and  brush- 
wood to  the  left  of  the  cabin's  front,  and  Granite 
was  so  puzzled  by  the  animal's  behavior  that  he  paid 
no  heed  to  Power  during  the  next  few  seconds ;  more- 
over, the  fact  that  Nancy  had  left  a  written  message 
showed  that,  although  something  unusual  might  have 
occurred,  it  was  not  necessarily  alarming.  Then  he 
heard  a  queer  sort  of  sob,  or  groan,  and,  glancing  at 
Power,  saw  that  in  his  face  which  brought  a  dismayed 
question  to  his  own  lips. 

"  God  A'mighty,  Mr.  Power,  what's  got  ye?  "  he 
cried. 

Power  made  no  reply.  He  seemed  as  though 
stricken  with  a  palsy.  He  absolutely  reeled,  and  would 
have  tumbled  headlong  had  he  not,  by  chance,  stag- 
gered back  against  the  jamb  of  the  door.  Granite 
caught  him  by  the  arm  lest  he  should  fall,  and  Nancy's 
letter  dropped  from  his  nerveless  fingers,  and  fluttered 
to  the  ground. 

"  Don't  give  way  like  that,"  urged  the  guide. 
"  She  ain't  dead,  anyhow.  Has  she  left  you  bad 
news  ?  " 

Power  looked  at  the  man  as  though  he  did  not  rec- 
ognize him,  A  baleful  light  gleamed  in  his  eyes.  Had 
Willard  been  present  then,  it  was  not  he  who  would 
have  been  the  slayer,  unless  he  contrived  to  be  extraor- 
dinarily quick  with  his  weapons. 

"  She  has  gone,"  he  said,  in  the  monotone  of  tragedy ; 
for  there  are  moments  in  life  when  the  voice  loses 
its  flexible  notes,  and  mere  speech  becomes  a  mechanical 
effort. 


188  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

"  Gone?  "  echoed  Granite.  "  Wall,  I  allow  she'll  come 
back?  " 

**  No,  she  has  left  me  forever.    She  says  so," 

«  What,  in  that  theer  bit  o'  writin'?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Mr.  Power,  air  you  joshin'  me,  er  what?  " 

Power  drew  a  deep  breath.  The  dizziness  which  had 
benumbed  his  faculties  was  passing,  and  fortunately 
so;  for  his  sympathetic  companion,  despairing  of  ob- 
taining any  lucid  statement  from  this  dazed  man,  was 
stooping  to  pick  up  the  letter. 

"  No,"  he  managed  to  say.  "  You  must  not  read 
that.  It  is  meant  for  me  alone.  But  give  it  to  me. 
I — I  am  afraid  of  falling.    My  head " 

Vastly  puzzled,  the  guide  handed  him  the  half-folded 
sheet  of  paper.  The  bald  explanation  that  Mrs.  Power 
had  "  left  "  her  husband  "  forever  "  sounded  like  the 
wildest  variety  of  moon-madness.  In  Granite's  own 
phrase,  he  had  never  before  clapped  eyes  on  two  sich 
genuwine  love-birds  as  Nancy  and  Derry,  not  in  all  his 
bom  nateral,  and  to  be  told  that  one  had  deserted  the 
other  merely  went  to  prove  that  the  speaker  had  gone 
plumb  crazy.  For  a  time,  indeed,  he  was  convinced 
that  Power  was  suffering  from  a  slight  sunstroke,  be- 
cause they  had  paddled  nearly  two  miles  while  facing 
the  sun,  whose  rays  were  reflected  in  a  glowing  path 
on  the  surface  of  the  lake.  Such  attacks,  though  infre- 
quent, were  not  unknown  in  that  high  region.  When 
reaction  set  in,  and  Mrs.  Powej  returned,  the  patient 
would  become  violently  sick,  and  a  few  hours  of  com- 
plete rest  would  complete  his  cure. 

"Jest  go  right  inside  an'  set  yerself  daown,"  he 


Power's  Home-Coming  189 

said  cheerfully.  "  Me  an'  the  dawg  '11  git  on  Madam's 
trail  in  a  brace  o'  shakes.  We'll  bring  her  back,  you 
bet,  an'  ef  you  kinder  feel  as  though  you'd  swallered 
a  live  rabbit,  wall,  let  it  bolt! " 

Power  uttered  no  protest.  If  he  was  capable  of  any 
definite  sensation,  it  was  one  of  relief  that  the  friendly 
guide  meant  to  leave  him  alone.  He  stumbled  into 
the  hut,  and  collapsed  on  a  chair,  burying  his  face 
in  his  hands.  He  heard  Peter's  lively  command  to 
the  dog,  "  After  her,  Guess !  Hark  to  it.  Pup !  Keep 
yer  nose  to  the  ground,  an'  I'll  do  the  rest,"  as  if  the 
man's  voice  and  the  eager  whimpering  of  the  hound 
had  traveled  through  a  long  tunnel  before  reaching 
his  ears.  The  sounds  of  the  chase  soon  died  away 
among  the  trees.  A  great  silence  fell,  and  seemed  to 
wrap  him  in  a  pall  that  would  never  unfold  again. 
Fearing  lest  his  brain  might  yield  under  the  strain,  he 
spread  the  letter  open  on  the  table,  and  read  it  many 
times.  At  first  eyes  and  mind  were  equally  incapable 
of  mastering  its  contents;  but  a  subconscious  knowl- 
edge that  he  must  either  understand  those  vague  words 
or  go  mad  in  time  enabled  their  sense  to  penetrate  the 
gathering  mists. 

And  this  is  what  he  read: 

"  Derry,  I  am  leaving  you.  Mr.  Willard  has  followed 
us.  He  is  here  with  me  now.  He  has  forced  me  to  believe 
that  duty  demands  my  return  to  Hugh  Marten;  so  I  am 
going.     It  is  best  so.     Derry,  don't  grieve  for  me.     If  I 

thought [these   three   words   were   canceled].     Derry, 

forgive  me.  I  can  write  no  more.  My  poor  heart  is 
breaking. 

"  Nancy." 


190  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

Slowly,  through  a  haze  of  pain,  certain  incongruities 
were  revealed  in  the  curt,  disconnected  sentences.  Never 
before,  in  all  the  years  he  had  known  her,  had  Nancy 
alluded  to  her  father  as  "  Mr.  Willard."  Even  during 
these  later  days,  when  the  discovery  of  a  parent's 
treachery  was  a  prime  factor  in  her  seemingly  irrev- 
ocable decision  to  dissolve  her  marriage,  she  spoke  of 
him  invariably  in  terms  of  affection.  Indeed,  Power 
had  practised  some  measure  of  duplicity  by  pretending 
to  agree  with  her  hopeful  prophecy  of  a  speedy  recon- 
ciliation between  Willard  and  himself.  He  believed 
he  had  summed  up  the  man's  character  only  too  well. 
Such  a  mean  nature  would  assuredly  remain  stubborn 
in  its  hostility;  in  fact,  he  was  prepared  to  encounter 
greater  difficulties  and  annoyance  from  Willard  than 
from  Marten,  and  meant  to  persuade  Nancy  to  take 
a  world-tour  of  some  years'  duration  as  soon  as 
the  divorce  was  secured,  and  they  were  legally 
married.  Why,  then,  should  it  be  "  Mr.  Willard " 
who  had  followed  them,  and  not  "  my  father,"  or 
"Dad"? 

And  what  an  extraordinary  plea  she  had  put  for- 
ward to  excuse  her  precipitate  flight?  "  He  has  forced 
me  to  believe  that  duty  demands  my  return  to  Hugh 
Marten !  "  When  had  woman  ever  convinced  herself 
more  thoroughly  than  Nancy  that  "  duty "  did  not 
"  demand  "  the  sacrifice  of  her  whole  life  ?  Had  she 
not  weighed  "  duty  "  in  the  balance,  and  found  it  want- 
ing, before  she  cast  all  other  considerations  to  the 
winds,  and  fled  from  Newport  with  the  man  she  loved? 
But  "  Mr.  Willard  "  had  "  forced  "  that  view  upon  her. 
Forced !    A  strange  word  1    Had  he  threatened  to  mur- 


Power's  Home-Comng  191 

der  her?  Had  she  written  that  letter  at  the  dictation 
of  a  maniac?  Why,  of  course!  The  notion  stung 
Power  to  the  quick,  and  he  groaned  aloud.  How  crass 
and  blind  had  been  his  anguished  spirit  when  first  it 
quivered  under  the  shock  of  her  disappearance!  How 
much  wiser  and  saner  was  Peter  Granite !  Even  Guess, 
the  dog,  read  the  riddle  aright,  and  had  urged  instant 
action.  And  how  fortunate  that  these  two  faithful 
friends  had  raced  off  in  pursuit  rather  than  wait  at 
the  cabin  until  belated  reason  shed  its  light  on  the  brain 
of  the  one  person  in  the  world  Nancy  must  have 
trusted  to  understand  her  dilemma.  At  the  thought 
of  his  failure  to  grasp  the  essential  elements  of  a 
mystery  that  was  simplicity  itself  when  analyzed  in 
cold  logic,  the  blood  rushed  through  his  veins  like  a 
stream  of  molten  metal,  and  he  leaped  to  his  feet, 
all  afire  now  to  be  up  and  doing.  He  ran  out,  and  was 
plunging  wildly  into  the  tangle  of  forest  and  scrub, 
when  it  occurred  to  him  that  undirected  search  in  that 
wilderness  was  worse  than  useless.  He  was  no  Indian, 
skilled  in  jungle  lore,  that  he  should  discern  the  tracks 
of  pursued  and  pursuers,  and  follow  them  unerringly. 
Better  possess  his  soul  in  patience  until  some  sight  or 
sound  announced  the  return  of  Peter — with  Nancy. 
Oh,  yes,  Peter  and  the  dog  would  soon  overtake  that 
vengeful  old  man  and  his  terrified  victim!  Pray 
Heaven  there  might  be  no  opportunity  given  Willard 
to  do  evil  to  the  girl  who  had  thwarted  his  plans !  Yet 
how  often  had  the  chance  to  do  ill  deeds  made  ill  deeds 
done.  Power  wilted  now  under  a  horrible  doubt  which 
brought  fresh  tortures.  He  listened  for  the  distant 
pistol-shot  which   might  shatter  his   new-found  hope. 


192  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

Perforce,  he  stilled  his  frenzy,  and  stood  in  anguished 
silence. 

But  no  sound  of  death-dealing  weapon  jarred  on  the 
brooding  solitude  of  that  lake  amid  the  hills;  the 
earliest  intimation  he  received  of  the  real  nature  of 
his  loss  was  when  Granite  and  the  dog  came  back — 
alone. 

He  strode  a  few  paces  to  meet  his  allies,  and  in  that 
moment  of  black  despair  the  pride  of  his  manhood 
sustained  him,  and  choked  the  bitter  words,  the  fierce 
ravings,  the  storming  of  the  very  heavens,  which  tore 
and  raged  for  utterance,  yet  were  so  futile  and  help- 
less in  the  one  way  that  mattered — the  rescue  of  his 
lost  love. 

"  So,  then,  you  could  not  overtake  them?  "  he  said, 
and,  if  Granite  had  not  seen  Power  when  the  blow 
fell,  he  would  never  have  estimated  the  volcanic  fury 
of  the  furnace  hidden  under  Power's  unemotional  voice 
and  manner. 

"  No,  sir,"  came  the  quiet  answer.  "  Thar  was 
bosses  in  waitin',  three  bosses.  They've  circled  the  head 
of  the  lake,  an'  I  saw  Mrs.  Power's  dress  as  they  rode 
away  from  the  hotel." 

The  perplexed  guide  deemed  it  best  to  blurt  out  the 
actual  facts.  He  thought,  and  rightly  so,  that  any 
attempt  to  minimize  the  full  extent  of  the  tragedy 
would  only  add  to  Power's  suffering  when  he  knew  the 
truth.  Nor  was  he  comforted  in  the  least  by  the  un- 
natural calm  with  which  his  news  was  received. 

"  But,  look-a  here,  Mr.  Power ! "  he  protested  ear- 
nestly. "  I'm  ready  to  swear  on  the  biggest  Testament 
ever  prent  that  your  good  lady  didn't  vamoose  of  her 


Power's  Home-Coming  193 

own  free  will.  Leave  you?  Gol-dam  it,  that's  a  bit  too 
rich  fur  me  ter  believe !  Who's  tuk  her,  anyhow  ?  Why 
did  she  go?  What  sort  of  a  spiel  did  the  cuss  put  up 
that  she  walked  off  with  him — when  she  had  a  gun,  an' 
Guess  was  here,  an'  she  must  ha  seen  you  an'  me 
comin'  in  the  canoe?  " 

"  The  man  was  her  father.  This  quarrel  is  between 
him  and  me.  Peter,  we  must  cross  the  lake  at  once. 
We  can  hire  horses  at  the  hotel?  " 

Granite  shook  his  head  sorrowfully.  The  affair  was 
beyond  his  comprehension ;  but  it  was  his  business  to 
undeceive  his  employer  if  he  was  counting  on  the  chance 
of  overtaking  the  vanished  pair. 

"  Sorry,"  he  said.  "  This  yer  plot  was  well  laid. 
They  run  three  nags  at  the  hotel,  an'  the  hull  blamed 
bui\c.h  hit  the  pike  fur  Racket." 

Racket  was  the  nearest  station,  the  terminus  of  a 
short  railway  serving  the  Forked  Lake  district.  It  lay 
six  miles  away!  With  the  start  Willard  had  secured, 
he  would  be  at  the  rail-head  before  the  others  had 
crossed  the  lake.  But  Power  knew  he  would  go  mad 
if  compelled  to  remain  in  the  cabin  when  Nancy  was 
not  there,  and  Granite  made  no  further  effort  to  de- 
tain him. 

"  We'll  travel  a  heap  quicker  if  we  unload  them 
stores,"  was  all  he  said,  and  Power  turned  instantly 
to  help  in  the  work.  When  Peter  had  occasion  to  enter 
the  cabin,  he  examined  the  gun,  and  found  the  two 
cartridges. 

"  Gosh !  "  he  muttered.  "  She  tuk  'em  out  herself.  I 
allow  she  didn't  want  ter  shoot  her  own  father;  but 
she  must  hev'  damn  well  felt  like  it  1 " 


194  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

Then  he  eyed  the  dog. 

"  Wish  you  could  talk,  Pup,"  he  said.  "  Your  long 
lugs  heerd  what  passed  atween  them  two,  an'  I  guess 
it  kinder  tried  you  good  hard  ter  keep  yer  teeth  outen 
that  old  sinner's  leg." 

Power  spoke  no  word  until  the  canoe  rested  by  the 
side  of  the  small  landing-stage  provided  by  the  hotel. 
Bidding  the  guide  await  his  return,  he  hastened  into 
the  building,  and  found  the  proprietor.  Yes,  a  Mr. 
Francis  had  registered  two  days  ago.  He  had  rented 
a  room  overlooking  the  lake,  and  had  hired  the 
hotel's  three  horses  this  morning.  Two  of  the  ani- 
mals were  carrying  him  and  a  lady  to  Racket,  and 
the  rider  of  the  third  was  a  groom,  who  had  charge 
of  Mr.  Francis's  grip,  and  who  would  bring  the  nags 
back  from  the  depot.  Mr.  Francis  seemed  to  be  in 
a  desperate  hurry ;  but  that  was  not  to  be  wondered  at 
if  he  meant  to  catch  the  next  south-bound  train,  there 
being  just  fifty  minutes  in  which  to  cover  the  five  miles. 
There  was  no  other  train  until  the  night  mail,  which 
was  due  to  leave  Racket  at  seven  o'clock.  The  hotel 
possessed  a  buggy;  but  Mr.  Francis  refused  to  use  it. 
In  fact,  he  was  willing  to  pay  any  price  for  the  horses ; 
though  it  was  most  inconvenient  that  there  should  not 
even  be  one  horse  left  in  the  stable,  as  it  might  be 
wanted  in  an  emergency. 

Power  thanked  his  informant,  who  doubtless  won- 
dered what  whifF  of  excitement  had  stirred  this  re- 
mote comer  of  New  York  state  that  morning;  but 
gleaned  little  from  his  cool,  self-contained  questioner. 
Indeed,  Power  raised  only  one  more  point — could  he 
be   driven   to   Racket   for  the   late   train? — and   was 


Power's  Home-Coming  195 

assured  that  there  would  be  no  difficulty  in  that 
respect. 

Then  Peter  received  his  orders. 

"  Pack  Mrs.  Power's  baggage  and  mine,  and  bring 
everything  here,"  said  Power.  "  I  want  you  to  re- 
main in  the  cabin  till  you  hear  from  me;  but  come 
to  the  hotel  every  day  for  a  letter  or  telegram." 

Granite  nodded,  and  paddled  off  silently  and  swiftly. 
He  understood,  not  all,  but  some  part,  of  Power's  mood. 
There  were  ordeals  from  which  any  man  would  flinch, 
and  high  among  these  for  the  bereaved  husband  (as 
the  guide  deemed  him)  would  rank  the  heartbreaking 
task  of  sorting  out  and  folding  Nancy's  clothes,  and 
replacing  her  toilet  requisites  in  a  dressing-case.  Each 
garment  would  speak  of  her  with  a  hundred  mouths, 
each  tiny  silver  article  and  cut-glass  bottle  would  re- 
call the  grace  of  her  gestures  when  she  was  brushing 
her  luxuriant  hair  or  shrugging  her  slim  shoulders 
in  laughing  protest  against  Derry's  clumsiness  as  a 
lady's-maid. 

Before  Peter  returned,  a  luncheon-gong  boomed  from 
the  porch  of  the  hotel,  and  a  number  of  men  came  in 
from  their  canoes  or  fishing-punts.  One  of  a  small 
party  noticed  Power  sitting  on  a  shaded  seat  in  the 
little  garden  which  ran  down  to  the  water's  edge. 

"  Isn't  that  the  man  with  the  pretty  wife  who  lives 
in  Granite's  shack  ?  "  he  asked.  "  He  looks  as  though 
he'd  lost  a  dollar  and  found  a  nickel." 

"  P'r'aps  he's  lost  his  missis,"  laughed  another. 

"  No  fear.  They're  a  honeymoon  couple  if  ever  there 
was  one.  Why,  when  he  comes  here  for  stores  she 
stands  at  the  door  of  the  hut  the  whole  time  he  is 


196  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

absent,  watching  him  all  the  way  here  and  waving  to 
him  all  the  way  home  again." 

The  hotelkeeper,  noting  Power's  absence  from  the 
dining-room,  sent  a  maid  to  remind  him  that  the  meal 
was  being  served. 

Power  started  violently  when  the  girl's  soft-spoken 
words  broke  in  on  his  reverie.  For  an  instant  he 
dreamed  that  Nancy  had  come,  that  he  would  feel  her 
fingers  clasped  over  his  eyes,  hear  her  voice. 

"  It  is  so  hot  and  quiet  here,"  he  explained,  smiling 
pleasantly,  "  that  I  was  nearly  asleep.  I  don't  need 
any  lunch,  thank  you." 

Yet  never  had  man  seemed  more  wakeful.  The  girl 
thought  that  surely  he  must  be  ill,  and  in  pain,  and  she 
wondered  why  his  wife  had  left  him;  for  Nancy's  de- 
parture was  already  known  to  the  hotel  servants,  since 
nothing  could  happen  in  that  secluded  nook  without 
their  cognizance,  and  Willard's  corner  in  horse-flesh 
that  morning  had  been  much  discussed  in  the 
kitchen. 

Granite,  however,  put  in  an  appearance  soon,  and 
insisted  that  Power  should  eat. 

"  You'll  be  headin'  for  N'  York,  I  reckon,"  he  said, 
"  an'  there  ain't  no  sort  o'  sense  in  makin'  that  long 
trip  on  an  empty  stummick.  You  jest  take  my  say-so, 
Mr.  Power,  an'  eat  yer  meals  reg'lar,  an'  you'll  size 
up  things  altogether  different  when  you  set  down  to 
yer  breakfast  tomorrow." 

His  well-meant  advice  caused  a  thrill  of  agony. 
Breakfast  without  Nancy!  The  dawn  of  the  first  day 
when  she  was  not  by  his  side !  The  mind  often  works 
in  grooves,  and  Power's  thoughts  flew  back  to  that 


Power's  Home-Coming  197 

other  day  when  he  lay  crushed  on  the  ledge.  As  he 
walked  to  the  hotel  with  the  guide,  his  leg  seemed  to 
be  almost  broken  again,  and  he  moved  with  difficulty. 

Afterward,  he  spoke  and  acted  in  a  curiously  me- 
chanical way.  He  was  aware  that  he  gave  Granite 
detailed  instructions,  and  paid  him  far  more  than  the 
friendly  disposed  fellow  was  inclined  to  accept,  and 
stowed  himself  and  various  portmanteaus  in  the  Jbuggy 
when  the  hotel  proprietor  warned  him  it  was  time  he 
should  set  out.  He  remembered,  too,  being  told  that 
a  young  lady  and  an  elderly  man  had  taken  tickets 
for  New  York  by  the  midday  train  from  Racket;  but 
the  journey  thenceforth  was  a  meaningless  blank.  He 
gave  no  heed  to  the  passing  of  the  hours.  He  did  not 
even  know  when  the  train  reached  the  Grand  Central 
Station.  Before  he  realized  that  he  must  bestir  him- 
self, one  of  the  attendants  had  to  ask  him  sarcas- 
tically where  he  wanted  to  go,  as  the  engineer  thought 
he  wouldn't  butt  into  Park  Avenue  that  morning. 

Still  behaving  like  one  in  a  dream,  he  wandered  out 
of  the  station  into  4>2d  Street,  drifted  down  Fifth  Ave- 
nue, and  entered  the  Waldorf  Hotel.  Here,  luckily, 
he  was  recognized  by  a  clerk — an  expert  who  never 
forgot  a  patron's  name  or  face — and  was  allotted 
rooms.  Otherwise,  he  would  certainly  have  been 
turned  away  politely ;  for  his  unkempt  appearance  and 
half-demented  air  offered  the  poorest  of  recommenda- 
tions to  one  of  New  York's  palatial  hotels. 

"  What  about  your  baggage,  Mr.  Power.?  "  inquired 
the  clerk,  whose  private  opinion  favored  the  view  that 
this  erstwhile  spick-and-span  client  had  been  "  hitting 
it  up  some." 


198  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

"Baggage?  Let  me  think?  I  have  some  recollec- 
tion  " 

Power  searched  in  his  pockets,  and  found  a  num- 
ber of  brass  checks.  He  really  had  not  the  slightest 
notion  as  to  when  and  where  that  detail  was  attended 
to,  but  habit  had  evidently  proved  stronger  than  emo- 
tion, and  some  sense  of  gratitude  stirred  in  him  that 
he  had  not  mislaid  his  own  few  belongings — and 
Nancy's. 

Then,  worn  out  physically  and  mentally,  he  threw 
himself  on  a  bed  and  slept.  He  awoke  after  three  hours, 
and  some  of  the  cloud  had  lifted  off  his  brain.  He 
felt  able  to  think  clearly,  and  plan  a  course  of  action, 
and  that  in  itself  was  a  blessing.  He  saw  now  that, 
if  Nancy  were  actually  humoring  a  homicidal  maniac, 
she  would  lead  her  father  straight  to  Newport,  know- 
ing full  well  that  he,  Derry,  would  come  there  with- 
out fail.  True,  there  were  sentences  in  that  terrible 
letter  which  hardly  bore  out  this  argument;  but,  then, 
it  was  probably  written  under  Willard's  watching  eyes, 
and  that  last  heartrending  farewell  might  have  been 
the  only  formula  she  could  devise  for  a  final  leave- 
taking  compelled  by  a  loaded  revolver. 

At  any  rate,  he  would  telegraph  to  Dacre,  in  whose 
discretion  he  trusted  implicitly;  so,  not  without  a 
strenuous  effort  needed  to  collect  his  wits,  he  drafted 
an  ambiguously  worded  telegram. 

**  My  friend's  father  came  to  the  Adirondacks  yesterday, 
and  effected  departure  forcibly  during  my  absence.  Will 
you  make  guarded  inquiries?  Wire  me  Waldorf  Hotel  on 
receipt  of  this  message,  and  later.** 


Power's  Home'Coming  199 

It  was  a  relief  to  think  that  he  had  taken  one  de- 
cisive step.  During  the  two  hours  of  inaction  before 
a  reply  could  come  to  hand,  he  bathed,  changed  his 
clothes,  and  ate  some  food,  for  which  he  was  ravenous, 
having  refused  to  dine  on  the  train. 

Bethinking  himself,  too,  that  Nancy  might  have 
found  some  means  of  telegraphing  on  her  own  account, 
he  inquired,  first  at  the  hotel  bureau,  but  without  re- 
sult, since  any  communications  received  there  would 
have  been  sent  to  his  room,  and  secondly  at  his  bank. 
Yes,  here  were  letters  and  telegrams  galore,  some  re- 
addressed  from  Newport,  and  others  sent  direct.  He 
tore  open  the  telegrams  feverishly. 

But  what  was  this? 


you  wire? 


Your  mother  asking  for  you  every  hour.     Why  don't 

"  MacGonigal." 
And  another: 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  wire  if  this  reaches  you,  and  start 
west  by  next  train. 

"  MacGonigal.'* 

The  messages  latest  in  arriving  were  naturally  on 
top  of  the  bundle,  and  his  trembling  fingers  were  tear- 
ing at  another  envelop  when  someone  touched  him  on 
the  shoulder.  It  was  an  official  of  the  bank,  who  had 
spoken  to  him  twice  in  vain  across  the  counter,  and 
was  now  standing  at  his  side. 

"  I'm  afraid  you  have  bad  news  from  Bison,  Mr. 
Power,"  he  said  gently.     "  Your  manager — or  part- 


200  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

ner,  is  it? — Mr.  MacGonigal,  has  been  telegraphing  us 
repeatedly  during  the  past  five  days ;  but  unfortunately 
we  did  not  know  where  to  find  you.  Your  mother  is 
ill,  very  ill." 

"Is  she  dead.?" 

Power  could  only  whisper  the  words,  and  the  other 
noted  in  voice  and  manner  what  he  construed  as  a  son's 
natural  agitation  at  such  a  moment. 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  but  she  is  undoubtedly  in  danger. 
It  seems  to  me,  from  what  MacGonigal  says,  that  a 
telegram  from  you  telling  her  you  are  on  board  a  west- 
bound train  will  be  more  effective  than  any  doctor's 
treatment." 

Power  was  shaking  as  though  from  ague.  He  alone 
knew  the  frightful  alternative  that  faced  him  now.  If 
he  went  to  Newport,  he  would  be  deserting  his  mother, 
who  was  perhaps  dying.  If  he  went  to  Bison,  he  was 
deserting  Nancy  in  the  hour  of  her  utmost  need.  At 
that  instant  he  dared  not,  he  could  not,  decide,  and 
the  knowledge  that  he  even  hesitated  was  like  the  thrust 
of  a  sword  through  his  heart. 

"  I — I "  he  began,  and  his  tongue  seemed  to  re- 
fuse its  office. 

"  I  quite  understand,  Mr.  Power,"  said  the  official, 
an  assistant  manager,  as  it  happened,  and  a  shrewd 
and  kindly  man.  "  It  is  useless  to  think  of  leaving 
New  York  before  tonight.  Come  to  my  desk.  I'll 
write  a  telegram  for  you  which  will  straighten  things 
out.  Will  you  travel  by  the  Pennsylvania  and  Rock 
Island  Route?  I  thought  so.  The  train  starts  at 
seven  o'clock;  so  you  have  plenty  of  time  to  receive 
an  answer  from  Bison.    Now,  how  will  this  do?  " 


Power  s  Home-Coming  201 

And  he  wrote : 

"  Your  telegrams  only  just  opened.  Coming  by  tonight's 
train  by  Pennsylvania  road.  Wire  me  care  of  station  agent, 
Pittsburgh,  Fort  Wayne,  Chicago,  and  Omaha.  Message 
today  before  six  will  reach  me  at  Waldorf  Hotel.  Give 
my  love  to  mother  and  bid  her  cheer  up." 

Power  muttered  what  he  conceived  to  be  words  of 
thanks.  Then,  rushing  to  his  rooms  in  the  hotel  like 
a  hunted  animal  seeking  sanctuary,  he  read  MacGoni- 
gal's  earlier  telegrams.  There  were  letters,  too,  no  less 
than  three  from  his  mother,  who  seemed  perplexed  and 
uneasy  because  of  the  varying  postmarks  on  his  corre- 
spondence, but  made  no  mention  of  her  illness. 

Indeed,  the  last  letter,  dated  only  a  week  earlier, 
spoke  of  a  shopping  expedition  to  Denver  she  and  Mrs. 
Moore  and  the  two  girls  had  taken  the  previous  day. 
MacGonigal,  too,  was  not  explicit.  "  Mrs.  Power  very 
ill  and  desperately  anxious  to  see  you,"  ran  one  tele- 
gram. Another  told  of  Dr.  Stearn  being  summoned, 
and  remaining  in  constant  attendance;  but  the  burden 
of  each  and  every  message  was  that  he.  Power,  must 
come  home. 

It  was  not  surprising  that  the  unhappy  son  should 
see  in  his  mother's  sudden  collapse  the  hand  of  the 
Almighty.  Deep  in  the  heart  of  every  man  and  woman 
is  planted  the  conviction  that  an  unseen  and  awful 
deity  deals  out  retribution  as  well  as  justice  to  erring 
humanity.  Power  was  under  no  delusion  as  to  his 
personal  responsibility  for  his  actions.  He  had  done 
wrong,  and  now  he  was  being  punished.  "  A  man's 
heart  deviseth  the  way,  but   the  Lord   directeth  his 


202  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

steps."  Sternly  and  terribly  had  his  feet  been  turned 
to  the  new  path;  but  if  he  flung  himself  on  his  knees 
and  prayed  now,  it  was  not  for  forgiveness  of  his 
own  sin,  but  in  frenzied  petition  that  it  should  not  be 
visited  on  his  mother  and  Nancy.  Even  in  this  new 
delirium  of  suffering  he  did  not  forget  the  woman 
he  loved.  Though  his  torment  was  as  the  torment  of 
a  scorpion,  he  asked  that  Nancy,  too,  might  be  spared. 
On  his  head  be  the  punishment ;  but  let  the  Divine  Ruler 
of  the  world  have  pity  on  her  youth,  and  find  innocence 
in  her,  for  she  had  been  hardly  dealt  by ! 

He  was  still  kneeling  in  anguish  of  spirit  when  an 
awe-stricken  page  entered  the  room  with  a  telegram. 
If  aught  were  needed  to  crush  him  Into  the  dust,  it 
was  forthcoming  in  Dacre's  guarded  words  : 

"  Have  accidentally  secured  brief  talk  on  telephone  with 
friend  indicated,  who  arrived  this  morning  Fall  River 
steamer.  No  secret  made  of  intentions,  which  I  am  bid- 
den to  warn  you  are  final.  Going  with  father  to  Europe 
at  once;  but  would  not  discuss  reasons,  for  which,  obvi- 
ously, I  could  not  press.  I  am  puzzled  and  shocked.  Com- 
mand me  in  any  way.  Have  you  received  urgent  sum- 
mons to  Bison?    Your  mother  is  ill." 

Then,  and  not  until  then,  did  some  Heaven-sent  clar- 
ity of  vision  reveal  to  Power  that  Nancy  had  not  been 
acting  a  part  when  she  wrote  the  letter  he  found  in  the 
hut.  It  was  only  too  true  that,  as  he  told  Peter  Gran- 
ite in  the  first  mad  words  which  burst  from  his  lips, 
she  had  left  him  forever.  He  did  not  pretend  to  un- 
derstand her  motives — he  was  sure  he  never  would 
understand  them — but  her  action,  at  least,  was  finite. 


Powers  Home'Coming  208 

He  knew  now  she  was  gone  beyond  recall.  By  some 
malign  trick  of  fate  she  was  probably  stating  her  un* 
alterable  resolve  over  the  telephone  to  his  friend  at 
the  very  moment  he  was  reeling  under  the  shock  of 
MacGonigaPs  frantic  messages  with  reference  to  his 
mother. 

Well,  be  it  so !  His  dream  of  a  life's  happiness  had 
been  shattered  by  a  thunderbolt  from  a  summer  sky, 
and,  crowning  misery,  here  was  his  mother  at  death's 
door,  in  a  state  of  mind  surely  aggravated  by  distress 
because  of  uncertainty  as  to  his  whereabouts!  Sheer 
despair  was  again  calming  if  benumbing  him  when,  by 
ill-chance,  his  haggard  eyes  dwelt  on  Nancy's  letter. 
The  concluding  words  seemed  to  grip  him  by  the 
throat : 

"  I  can  write  no  more.    My  poor  heart  is  breaking.'* 

God  of  mercy,  what  did  it  all  mean?  He  gave  way 
utterly.  A  strong  man  weeping  is  a  pitiable  sight, 
and  Nancy's  high  resolve  might  have  weakened  had  she 
seen  him  in  that  bitter  hour. 

Perhaps  she  knew.  She  must  have  known.  Her  for- 
lorn soul  must  have  gaged  his  distress  by  the  meas- 
ure of  her  own  sorrowful  longing.  But  she  had  deceived 
Power  so  thoroughly  that  not  for  many  a  year  did  he 
even  guess  that  her  flight  was  undertaken  solely  on  his 
account.  And  it  was  better  so;  for  the  story  of  their 
love  might  have  been  stained  by  a  sordid  tragedy,  and 
Power,  instead  of  going  West  that  night,  would  have 
taken  a  special  train  to  Newport  with  fixed  intent  to 
choke  Willard's  wretched  life  out  of  him.  As  it  was, 
he  crossed  two-thirds  of  the  great  land  which  had 
given  him  vast  wealth,  and  much  tribulation,  and  little 


204  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

joy.  At  New  York,  and  elsewhere  en  route,  he  re- 
ceived telegrams  from  his  trusty  friend  at  Bison.  They 
were  not  reassuring ;  but  they  did,  at  least,  contain  one 
grain  of  comfort  in  the  tidings  that  his  mother  still 
lived. 

But  therein  MacGonigal  allowed  his  heart  to  con- 
trol his  pen;  for  Mrs.  Power  breathed  her  last  before 
her  son  had  quitted  New  York,  and  it  was  to  a  town 
in  mourning  that  Power  returned.  His  mother  had 
endeared  herself  to  every  soul  in  the  place.  The  peo- 
ple looked  on  her  as  their  guardian  angel.  They  al- 
most scowled  on  John  Darien  Power  when  the  flying 
feet  of  his  horse  clattered  along  the  main  street  in 
his  haste  to  soothe  the  fretfulness  of  a  woman  who 
was  already  three  days  dead.  Why  did  he  leave  her? 
they  asked.  Where  had  he  hidden  that  the  country 
should  be  scoured  for  him  during  the  last  week,  and 
none  could  find  him.?  He  used  to  be  a  decent,  out- 
spoken sort  of  fellow,  Derry  Power;  but  wealth  had 
spoiled  him,  as  it  seemed  to  spoil  every  man  who  se- 
cured it.  Queer  thing!  Deponent  thought  that  he, 
or  she,  would  risk  the  experiment  at  the  price. 

Thus,  light-hearted  gossip,  which  talks  in  headlines, 
and  recks  little  of  the  subtler  issues  of  life. 


CHAPTER  XII 
AFTER  DARKNESS,  LIGHT 

Death  brings  peace.  Having  accomplished  its 
dread  mission,  it  atones  to  the  body  from  which  the 
soul  is  snatched  by  smoothing  away  the  lines  of  agony 
from  the  face;  it  seems  even  to  relent  for  awhile,  and 
restore  to  worn  and  aged  features  the  semblance  of 
long- vanished  youth. 

When  Power  looked  at  his  dead  mother,  he  saw  her 
as  she  might  have  looked  in  placid  sleep  when  he  was 
a  boy  in  San  Francisco.  But  a  discovery  that  is  often 
soothing  to  those  who  are  bereft  of  their  nearest  arid 
dearest  brought  him  no  consolation.  His  stupor  of 
grief  and  misery  was  denied  the  relief  of  tears.  Rather 
did  his  brooding  thought  run  to  the  other  extreme.  The 
mother  he  loved  was  at  rest — why  should  he  not  join 
her?  He  believed,  like  many  another  man  who  has 
passed  through  the  furnace  of  a  soul-destroying  pas- 
sion, that  he  had  drunk  the  flame-wreathed  cup  of  life 
to  the  dregs.  The  fiery  potion  had  swept  through  his 
veins  and  reduced  him  to  ashes.  He  was  no  longer 
even  the  recluse  of  the  Dolores  Ranch,  finding  in  books 
solace  for  a  lost  love,  but  the  burnt-out  husk  of  his 
former  self.  What  was  there  left,  that  he  should  wish 
to  live?  Why  should  he  not  end  it  all,  and  seek  the 
kindly  oblivion  of  the  grave? 

Ever  stronger  and  more  insistently  did  this  idea 
205 


206  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

take  root  in  his  mind,  and  some  evil  monitor  seemed 
to  bellow  it  at  him  when  he  stood  next  day  in  the 
cemetery,  and  saw  the  coffin  lowered  into  the  earth. 
The  beautiful  words  of  the  burial  service  give  sorely 
needed  help  to  stricken  hearts ;  but  this  man's  ears  were 
closed  to  their  solemn  promise. 

"  I  am  the  resurrection  and  the  life,  saith  the  Lord : 
he  that  believeth  in  me,  though  he  were  dead,  yet  shall 
he  live." 

The  minister's  voice,  hitherto  broken  and  tremu- 
lous, for  he  held  the  dead  woman  in  much  esteem,  and 
her  loss  was  grievous  to  him,  rang  out  with  a  new 
confidence  when  it  declaimed  that  splendid  passage ;  yet 
Power  was  conscious  only  of  a  desire  to  cry  aloud 
in  frenzied  protest.  Then  that  phase  passed;  the  tu- 
mult died  down;  he  shrank  into  a  lethargy  which  was 
infinitely  more  dangerous  than  a  state  of  wild  revolt. 

In  that  black  mood  he  was  watched  unceasingly  by 
faithful  friends.  MacGonigal  and  Jake  were  never 
far  from  his  side.  Though  he  did  not  know  of,  and 
would  have  angrily  resented,  their  quiet  guardianship, 
he  could  not  have  taken  his  own  life  just  then,  and  the 
time  was  yet  far  distant  when  he  would  ask  himself 
in  wonder  and  thankfulness  how  he  had  escaped  death 
by  his  own  hand  during  the  first  dreary  hours  fol- 
lowing his  return  to  Bison. 

But  there  were  other  influences  at  work,  and  one  of 
these  made  its  presence  felt  speedily.  After  the  fu- 
neral he  was  sitting  alone  in  the  room  which  he  had 
converted  into  a  library.  His  unseeing  eyes  were  fixed 
on  the  smiling  landscape  into  which  irrigation  had  con- 
verted the  once  arid  ranch.    A  troop  of  brood  mares, 


After  Darkness,  Light  207 

with  /oals  at  heel,  were  emulating  mankind  by  neg- 
lecting the  lush  pastures  at  their  feet  and  craning  their 
graceful  necks  over  a  palisade  to  nibble  the  thorn  hedge 
it  protected.  This  double  barrier  shut  off  the  lawn 
and  garden  from  the  meadow  lands.  Here  and  there 
the  green  of  apple  orchards,  planted  with  artistic  re- 
gard to  open  vistas,  was  already  flecked  with  golden 
fruit.  Soon  the  reapers  would  be  busy  on  the  sections 
where  maize  and  oats  and  wheat  were  ripening.  The 
lowing  of  cattle  announced  that  milking-time  was  near ; 
for,  among  her  other  activities,  Mrs.  Power  had  estab- 
lished a  model  dairy,  and  it  was  her  gentle  boast  that 
she  had  made  it  pay ;  thus  bringing  out  in  the  mother 
the  money-coining  instincts  which  the  son  had  devel- 
oped so  unexpectedly. 

Such  a  scene  might  well  lull  the  beholder  to  rest; 
but  Power  was  blind  to  its  charms.  He  was  reviewing, 
in  an  aimless  way,  the  associations  which  that  very 
apartment  held  for  him.  Changed  though  it  was  out 
of  all  semblance  to  the  poverty-stricken  living-room  of 
the  ranch,  Nancy's  spirit  had  never  been  wholly  ex- 
orcised. He  pictured  her  slim  and  lissome  figure  as 
she  had  stood  with  him  at  the  window  many  an  even- 
ing, and  watched  the  purple  shadows  stealing  over  the 
hills.  In  that  room  she  had  married  Marten.  From 
a  bamboo  stand  near  one  of  the  windows  she  had  taken 
the  spray  of  white  heather  which  formed  her  wedding 
bouquet.  Why  had  she  never  mentioned  it  to  him? 
Or  were  the  last  five  weeks  nothing  but  some  disor- 
dered vision  of  the  imagination,  a  delusion  akin  to 
those  glimpses  of  palm-laden  oases  and  flashing  waters 
which  come  to  thirst-maddened  wanderers  in  deserts? 


208  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

But  another  shadow  intervened.  His  mother,  in 
turn,  had  loved  the  gorgeous  sunsets  of  Colorado;  she, 
too,  was  wont  to  gaze  at  the  far-flung  panorama  which 
once  delighted  Nancy's  eyes.  And  she,  alas !  had  be- 
come a  dream  which  would  never  again  wake  into  re- 
ality. At  that  moment  the  relief  of  tears  was  immi- 
nent— and  tears  are  intolerable  to  a  strong  man.  He 
sprang  upright  in  a  spasm  of  pain,  and  bitter  words 
escaped  him  brokenly. 

The  movement,  no  less  than  the  few  disconnected  sen- 
tences, seemed  to  arouse  Jake,  who  happened  to  be 
lounging  against  one  of  the  pillars  of  the  veranda — out 
of  sight,  perhaps,  but  certainly  not  out  of  hearing. 

"  Would  yer  keer  ter  hev  an  easy  stroll  around, 
Mistah  Power?  "  he  said  instantly. 

"  No,  thanks — why  are  you  waiting  there  ?  Do  you 
want  to  speak  to  me  ?  " 

This  questioning  might  bear  interpretation  as  the 
outburst  of  one  who  resented  the  overseer's  presence; 
but  Jake  was  ready  with  the  soft  answer  which  turneth 
away  wrath: 

"  No,  sir.  Not  exactly,  that  is.  I  was  jest  waitin' 
fur  Mac.  He  allowed  he'd  be  back  about  this  time. 
Gosh!  Here  he  is,  crossin'  the  divide,  an'  totin'  along 
some  tony  galoot  I  hain't  seen  afore." 

"  Tell  MacGonigal,  and  every  other  person  in  the 
place,  that  I  am  not  to  be  disturbed." 

Power  withdrew  from  the  French  window,  and  Jake 
nodded  to  the  group  of  horses. 

"  You're  feelin'  pretty  bad,  I  guess,"  he  said  to 
himself.  "  But  thar  ain't  a  gun  in  the  outfit  outside 
my  locked  grip,  an'  you  cahn't  find  enough  rope  ter 


After  Darkness,  Light  209 

hang  a  cat,  an'  the  only  pisen  in  the  ranch  is  on  a 
sideboard,  an'  a  skinful  of  that  would  do  you  good,  an* 
this  yer  son  of  a  gun  can  stand  a  lot  o'  black  looks 
from  you,  Derry." 

He  heard  Power  sink  into  a  chair  on  the  inner  side 
of  the  room,  and  sheer  curiosity  led  him  to  steal  along 
the  veranda  to  the  porch,  where  MacGonigal  and  a 
stranger  were  alighting  from  a  two-wheeled  buggy. 

"  Derry 's  jest  tole  me  ter  quit,"  he  said  in  a  stage 
whisper,  jerking  his  left  hand,  as  though  it  still  pos- 
sessed a  thumb,  in  the  direction  of  the  library. 

The  newcomer,  a  tall,  well-built  man  of  middle  age, 
smiled  involuntarily  at  the  queer  gesture.  As  it  hap- 
pened, he  had  never  before  seen  a  veritable  cowboy  out- 
side the  bounds  of  one  or  other  of  the  American  circus 
shows  which  visit  Europe  occasionally,  and  Jake  had 
donned  his  costliest  rig  for  the  funeral. 

"  Shall  I  find  Mr.  Power  in  that  room  with  the  open 
window?  "  he  inquired. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Jake. 

"  I  think  he  will  be  glad  to  see  me,"  said  the  unknown, 
and,  without  further  comment,  he  ran  up  the  steps 
and  entered  the  veranda.  The  two  men  watched  him 
in  silence.  They  saw  him  halt  in  front  of  the  win- 
dow, and  heard  him  say,  "Power,  may  I  come  in?" 
They  heard  the  scraping  of  a  chair  on  the  parquet 
floor  as  it  was  thrust  aside;  then  the  stranger 
vanished. 

"  Who's  the  dook  ?  "  demanded  Jake,  vastly  surprised 
by  the  turn  of  events. 

"  Friend  o'  Dcrry's,"  said  MacGonigal,  sotto  voce, 
"  He  wired  me  from  Newport,  an'  his  messages  struck 


210  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

me  as  comin'  from  a  white  man ;  so  I  gev'  him  the  fax, 
an'  the  nex'  thing  I  hear  is  that  he's  on  the  rail,  but 
I'm  to  keep  mum,  as  he  thought  it  'ud  help  Derry  some 
if  he  kem  on  him  suddint.    An'  here  he  is." 

During  a  full  minute  neither  man  spoke.  At  last, 
Jake,  who  appeared  to  have  something  on  his  mind, 
brought  it  out. 

"  Thar  was  a  piece  'bout  Derry  and  Mrs.  Marten  in 
the  RocJcy  Mountain  News  a  week  sence,"  he  began. 

"  Thar  was,"  agreed  MacGonigal,  who  looked  vastly 
uncomfortable  in  a  suit  of  heavy  black  cloth. 

"  Not  anything  ter  make  a  song  of,"  went  on  Jake. 
"An  or'nary  kind  o'  yarn,  'bout  a  point-ter-point 
steeplechase,  whatever  that  sort  o'  flam  may  be,  an' 
Bison  won,  in  course." 

"  Jest  so,"  said  the  other. 

"  Guess  you  spotted  it,  too.f*  " 

"  Guess  I  did. 

"  Marten's  in  Baku.    Whar's  Baku?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  but  it's  a  damn  long  way  from  New- 
port, anyhow,  or  Derry  an'  Nancy  wouldn't  be  cavortin' 
round  together  on  plugs  from  one  p'int  to  any  other 
p'int." 

"  You  an'  me  sized  up  that  proposition  same  like." 

"  We're  a  slick  pair,"  grunted  MacGonigal  sarcas- 
tically. 

"  That's  as  may  be — I've  heerd  folk  say  wuss  ner 
that  'bout  you,"  said  Jake.  "  But  what  I  want  ter 
know  is  this :  S'pose  some  other  low-down  cuss  gits  busy, 
and  stirs  his  gray  matter  thinkin'  hard  on  things  he 
saw  in  the  newspaper,  what's  ter  be  done?  " 

MacGonigal  brought   his   big   red   face   very   near 


After  Darkness,  Light  211 

Jake^g  olive-skinned  one.  "  If  he's  on  the  ranch,  bounce 
him;  if  he's  in  Bison,  let  me  know,"  he  growled. 

Meanwhile,  the  man  whose  interests  they  were  plan- 
ning to  safeguard  had  looked  up  in  anger  when  a 
shadow  darkened  the  open  window;  but  he  started  to 
his  feet  in  sheer  amazement  when  he  saw  Dacre  and 
heard  his  voice. 

"You?"  he  cried.  "How  in  God's  name  did  you 
get  here?  " 

"  You  were  in  trouble,  Power,  and  I  count  it  a  poor 
friendship  that  shirks  a  few  days'  journey  when  a 
chum  is  in  distress." 

Their  hands  met,  and  Power's  white  face  showed  a 
wave  of  color.  He  was  deeply  stirred.  For  the  mo- 
ment he  was  an  ordinary  man,  and  subject  to  ordinary 
emotions. 

"  I  had  better  be  outspoken,"  continued  Dacre.  "  I 
got  in  touch  with  Mr.  MacGonigal,  and  he  informed 
me  of  your  mother's  death;  so  I  have  hurried  across 
America  to  be  with  you.  Being  rather  afraid  you  might 
stop  me  en  route,  I  requested  MacGonigal  not  to  tell 
you  I  was  coming." 

"  But  I  regard  your  action  as  a  most  kindly  one." 

"  Yes,  now  that  I  am  here.  For  all  that,  old  man, 
you  might  have  wired  very  emphatic  instructions  on 
the  point  to  Omaha  yesterday." 

"  My  dear  fellow,  you  find  me  in  a  house  of  mourn- 
ing. Won't  you  sit  down?  You  must  be  tired.  Can 
I  get  you  anything?  " 

"  My  bones  are  stiff  for  want  of  exercise — that  is 
all.  Now,  if  you  want  to  be  a  perfect  host,  have  my 
traps  sent  to  my  room.  .  ,  .  Don't  say  you  haven't  a 


212  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

spare  bedroom!  .  .  .  Good!  I'll  just  open  a  bag,  and 
get  some  tea — of  course,  you  can't  possibly  produce  any 
decent  tea — and  your  cook  will  boil  a  kettle,  and  after 
we  have  refreshed  on  the  beverage  that  cheers  while  it 
does  not  inebriate,  you  will  take  me  for  a  walk  around 
this  delightful  ranch  of  yours.  You  see,  I  don't  mean 
to  let  you  mope  here  by  yourself.  That  is  the  last 
thing  the  dear  lady  who  has  been  taken  from  you  would 
wish.  You  will  regard  me  as  a  beastly  nuisance,  but 
that  cannot  be  helped." 

The  ghost  of  a  smile  twinkled  in  Power's  eyes.  He 
was  quite  alive  to  his  friend's  object  in  rattling  along 
in  this  fashion ;  but  it  was  an  undeniable  relief  that  he 
should  be  compelled  to  follow  the  lead  given  so  cheer- 
fully. 

"  To  show  that  you  are  welcome  I'll  even  drink  your 
strong  tea,"  he  said.  "  Nor  am  I  alone  here,  as  you 
seem  to  imagine.  There  are  three  ladies  in  the  house — 
Mrs.  Moore  and  her  daughters,  Minnie  and  Margaret. 
Hand  over  your  bohea  to  Mrs.  Moore — she'll  dispense 
it  properly,  and  appreciate  it,  too,  I  have  little  doubt." 

In  such  wise  was  the  black  dog  care  partly  lifted 
off  Power's  shoulders.  He  had  yet  to  learn  that  the 
human  vessel  cannot  contain  more  than  its  due  meas- 
ure of  sorrow.  When  it  is  filled  to  the  brim  no  ad- 
ditional grief  can  find  lodgment.  Misfortune  carried  to 
excess  has  made  cowards  brave  and  given  fools  wisdom, 
and  Derry  Power  was  neither  coward  nor  fool. 

Mrs.  Moore  was  naturally  surprised  when  the  vis- 
itor was  introduced;  but  she  hailed  his  presence  with 
obvious  relief.  MacGonigal  and  Jake  were  invited  to 
join  the  tea-party — and,  at  any  other  time,  the  cow- 


After  Darkness,  Light  213 

boy's  struggles  with  a  tiny  cup  and  saucer  of  delicate 
china,  a  microscopic  teaspoon,  and  a  roll  of  thin  bread 
and  butter  would  have  caused  a  good  deal  of  merri- 
ment. Mac,  thanks  to  his  training  in  the  store,  jug- 
gled easily  with  these  implements,  and  there  was  an 
air  almost  of  light-heartedness  about  the  company  be- 
fore it  broke  up  at  Power's  suggestion  that  he  and 
Dacre  might  smoke  while  surveying  some  part  of  the 
ranch. 

Dacre  showed  his  knowledge  of  human  nature  by 
leading  his  friend  on  to  talk  of  his  mother.  That  way, 
he  was  sure,  lay  the  waters  of  healing.  While  deplor- 
ing the  unhappy  circumstances  which  attended  Mrs. 
Power's  death,  which  Dr.  Stearn  put  down  to  failure  of 
the  heart's  action,  he  swept  aside  her  son's  bitter  self- 
condemnation. 

"  Death,"  he  said,  "  is  the  one  element  in  human 
affairs  which  may  not  be  estimated  in  that  general 
way.  If  your  mother's  heart  was  affected,  she  was  far 
more  likely  to  die  of  some  sudden  excitement  than  be- 
cause of  a  not  very  poignant  anxiety  as  to  your  pro- 
longed absence  from  home.  I  suppose,  in  a  sense,  she 
knew  where  you  were.**  " 

"  Yes.  I — I  deceived  her  with  sufficient  skill,"  came 
the  morbid  retort. 

"  Then  you  must  school  yourself  to  dwell  on  those 
long  years  of  pleasant  companionship  in  the  past 
rather  than  this  final  parting,  which  you  attribute  to 
a  cause  that  exists  only  in  your  imagination.  I  think 
Tennyson's  philosophy  is  at  fault  in  the  line : 

'Sorrow's  crown  of  sorrow  is  remembering  happier  things.' 


214j  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

I  hold  that  Cowper  peered  more  closely  into  the  fiber 
and  essence  of  humanity  when  he  wrote: 

'  The  path  of  sorrow,  and  that  path  alone, 
Leads  to  the  land  where  sorrow  is  unknown; 
No  traveler  ever  reached  that  blest  abode 
Who  found  not  thorns  and  briars  in  his  road/ 

You  were  utterly  unnerved  and  wretched  when  the  news 
of  your  mother's  illness  reached  you.  You  magnified 
your  personal  responsibility  out  of  all  reasonable  pro- 
portion. I  can  see  no  proof  of  other  influence  than 
the  fixed  course  and  final  outcome  of  a  disease  difficult 
to  detect  and  incapable  of  cure." 

They  were  nearing  the  Gulch,  Power  having  chosen 
that  direction  because  of  the  uninterrupted  view  of 
the  surrounding  country  they  would  secure  from  the 
top  of  the  rising  ground. 

"  I  wish  I  might  accept  your  comforting  theory,"  he 
said,  more  composedly.  "  Somehow,  I  feel  that  I  am 
to  blame,  or,  if  that  is  a  crude  expression,  that  I  was 
made  the  instrument  of  some  devilish  act  of  retribution. 
However,  I  do  not  profess  myself  able  to  regard  such 
a  problem  in  a  critical  light  today.  You  won't  think 
me  heartless  if  I  inquire  into  the  conditions  which  led 
up  to  the  telegram  you  sent  me  in  New  York?  I  was 
too  dazed  that  morning  to  understand  clearly  what 
had  happened.  Did  you  actually  speak  to  Nancy  her- 
self over  the  telephone  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"Well?" 

"  Are  you  really  feeling  up  to  the  strain  of  hearing 
what  took  place  ?  " 


After  Darkness  J  Light  215 

Power  stopped  suddenly,  caught  his  friend's  arm, 
and  pointed  to  a  small  wooden  structure  erected 
in  a  singular  position  on  the  western  side  of  the 
canyon. 

"  You  have  not  forgotten  the  story  I  told  you  that 
last  night  in  Newport  ?  "  he  cried. 

"  No.     I  remember  every  word  of  it." 

"  Well,  that  little  shack  up  there  stands  on  the  ledge 
where  I  rediscovered  the  lode  after  being  nearly  crushed 
to  death.  I  crawled  to  within  a  few  yards  of  this  very 
spot;  so  resolved  was  I  that  no  one  should  rob  me  of 
the  price  I  was  paid  for  Nancy.  I  am  the  same  man 
now  that  I  was  then,  Dacre — and  in  a  very  similar 
mood.  Strain!  I  have  been  strained  to  the  limit.  I 
have  thought  of  taking  my  own  life;  not  from  lack 
of  capacity  to  endure  further  ills,  but  from  sheer  dis- 
gust at  the  crassness  of  things.  At  least,  then,  let  me 
inquire  into  their  meaning.    What  did  she  say  to  you?  " 

Despite  his  unwillingness  to  add  to  the  heavy  load 
Power  had  to  bear,  Dacre  was  not  altogether  sorry 
to  get  an  unpleasing  task  over  and  done  with.  But  he 
felt  his  way  carefully;  since  he,  too,  was  groping  in 
the  dark  to  a  certain  extent. 

"  Your  telegram  did  not  take  me  wholly  by  sur- 
prise," he  said.  "  I  knew  that  Nancy — you  don't  mind 
if  I  use  her  name  in  that  way,  do  you?  Well,  then,  I 
had  heard  of  her  return.  Mrs.  Van  Ralten  rang  me  up 
to  say  that  Mr.  Willard  and  his  daughter  had  ar- 
rived by  the  steamer  in  the  early  morning.  I  think 
I  took  such  astounding  news  calmly  enough ;  but  I  have 
a  suspicion  that  the  good  lady  herself  was  a  trifle 
worried,  and  was  only  too  glad  to  have  the  chance  of 


216  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

announcing  the  fact  of  her  friend's  reappearance.  She 
added  that  Nancy  was  ill,  having  been  overcome  by 
the  terrific  heat  in  New  York,  and  I  chimed  in  with 
the  proper  sentiments ;  though  I  have  seldom  been  more 
bewildered  than  at  that  moment.  Soon  afterward  your 
message  came,  and  I  began  dimly  to  grasp  the  posi- 
tion. I  seized  the  pretext  of  Mrs.  Van  Ralten's  state- 
ment to  call  up  Nancy's  residence,  and,  by  some  sort 
of  fortune,  whether  good  or  bad  I  can't  determine,  she 
herself  answered.  I  concocted  a  suitable  excuse;  but 
she  solved  the  difficulty  at  once  by  saying  that,  as  your 
friend,  I  ought  to  know  the  facts.  She  had  resolved 
to  leave  you,  '  to  put  an  end  to  a  mad  dream  '  was  a 
phrase  she  used,  and  asked  me  to  tell  you  that  she 
adhered  resolutely  to  the  decision  she  had  announced  in 
a  letter  the  previous  day.  She  added  that  she  was  sail- 
ing in  a  steamer  from  Boston  with  her  father  that 
night,  and  hoped  I  would  spread  the  impression  that 
she  had  been  ill,  and  needed  a  sea  voyage.  I  can  as- 
sure you,  old  chap,  I  was  completely  flabbergasted. 
Admiring  her  as  I  do,  I  would  never  have  believed  that 
she  would  act  in  that  extraordinary  manner  had  I  not 
received  the  story  from  her  own  lips,  if  one  may  so 
describe  a  conversation  by  telephone.  I  was  so  hor- 
ribly afraid  lest  some  outsider  in  the  hotel  might  over- 
hear me  that  I  dared  not  question  her.  The  talk  was 
studiously  formal  on  her  part,  and  I  was  so  thoroughly 
cut  up  that  I  could  not  attempt  to  convey  my  im- 
pressions in  your  telegram.  Moreover,  as  a  diligent 
student  of  Shakespeare,  was  I  not  warned  that 
'  Though  it  be  honest,  it  is  never  good 
To  bring  bad  news.* 


After  Darkness,  Light  217 

Certainly,  I  was  not  quite  in  the  position  of  Cleo- 
patra's messenger,  since  I  could  onlj  confirm  a  disaster 
already  known  to  you ;  but  I  literally  shrank  from  the 
obvious  inferences.  Then  came  MacGonigal's  revela- 
tion of  events  here.  I  simply  couldn't  rest.  After  a 
miserable  twenty-four  hours  of  vacillation,  I  started 
for  New  York,  calling  at  your  hotel  to  make  sure 
you  had  gone  west.  One  thing  more.  A  Chicago  news- 
paper gave  a  list  of  passengers  sailing  from  Boston  in 
a  Red  Star  liner.  In  it  were  the  names  of  Nancy  and 
her  father." 

For  an  appreciable  time  after  Dacre  had  concluded 
neither  man  spoke.     Then  Power  said  quietly; 

"  Thus  endeth  the  second  lesson." 

His  companion  was  not  one  who  indulged  in  plati- 
tudes. Some  men,  kind-hearted  and  pitying,  would 
have  reminded  him  that  he  was  still  young,  that  life 
was  rich  in  promise,  that  time  would  heal,  or,  at  any 
rate,  sear,  the  ugliest  wounds.  But  Dacre  said  none 
of  these  things.  He  merely  asked  if  Power  meant  to 
tell  him  what  really  happened  in  the  Adirondacks.  A 
good  talker,  he  was  also  a  good  listener.  Power  would 
recover,  he  was  convinced.  He  was  not  the  first  man, 
nor  would  he  be  the  last,  to  clasp  a  phantom  and  find 
it  air.  Meanwhile,  outspoken  confidence  should  pro- 
vide an  efficient  safety-valve  for  emotions  contained 
at  too  high  a  pressure. 

Power  yielded  to  this  friendly  urging,  but  not  in- 
stantly. Indeed,  he  astonished  the  Englishman  by  his 
next  utterance. 

"  Nearly  four  years  ago,"  he  said,  looking  back  at 
the  ranch  "  in  that  room  where  you  found  me  today, 


218  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

I  was  reading  *  The  Autocrat '  to  Nancy  one  night,  and 
a  certain  passage  caught  our  attention.  It  ran  some- 
what like  this ;  *  I  would  have  a  woman  as  true  as 
death.  At  the  first  lie  which  works  from  the  heart 
outward,  she  should  be  tenderly  chloroformed  into  a 
better  world.'  Both  of  us  laughed  then,  and  now  I 
know  why  we  laughed.  We  were  ignorant.  Holmes, 
genial  cynic  that  he  was,  understood  women ;  he  wrote 
a  vital  thing  when  he  described  the  sort  of  lie  that 
comes  from  the  heart.  I  put  trust  in  two  women,  and 
one  of  them  has  betrayed  it.  If  I  live  another  fifty 
years,  I  shall  never  understand  why  Nancy  left  me — 
never,  never!  I  would  as  soon  have  thought  of  sus- 
pecting an  angel  from  heaven  of  disloyalty  as 
Nancy." 

"  Has  she  proved  disloyal.?  " 

"  What  else .?  I  tried  to  find  comfort  in  the  belief 
that  her  father  compelled  her  to  accompany  him  by 
threatening  to  kill  her  if  she  refused.  But,  in  these 
days,  that  sort  of  melodrama  does  not  endure  beyond 
its  hour.  She  could  have  escaped  him  fifty  times  dur- 
ing the  last  six  days.  She  could  have  appealed  to 
you  for  help.  Mary  Van  Ralten  would  at  least  have 
shielded  her  from  murder.  Yet,  what  are  the  facts? 
In  a  letter  to  me  she  pleaded  duty  as  an  excuse.  She 
must  have  had  some  similar  plea  in  her  mind  when 
she  spoke  to  you.  And  she  has  gone  to  Europe — to 
rejoin  Marten!" 

He  broke  off  with  a  gesture  of  disdain.  He  was  in 
revolt.  The  statue  which  had  glowed  into  life  under 
the  breath  of  his  love  was  hardening  into  polished  ivory 
again. 


After  Darkness,  Light  219 

"  May  I  see  that  letter?  "  said  Dacre. 

"  Yes.     Here  it  is." 

The  older  man  read  and  reread  Nancy's  sorrow- 
laden  words. 

"  She  tells  you  her  poor  heart  is  breaking — I  believe 
her — in  every  syllable,"  he  said. 

"  Believe  her — when  she  prates  of  duty — to  Mar- 
ten? " 

"  I  don't  profess  to  understand,  yet  I  believe.  I 
do,  on  my  soul !  " 

Power's  face  grew  dark  with  a  grim  humor  that  was 
more  tragic  than  misery.  "  Am  I  to  follow — by  the 
next  steamer?  "  he  demanded. 

"  No.  She  will  come  back — send  for  you.  The  pres- 
ent deadlock  cannot  last." 

Again  Power  showed  his  disbelief  by  a  scornful 
grimace.  "  I  am  so  deeply  beholden  to  your  friendship 
that  I  claim  the  privilege  of  saying  that  you  are  talking 
nonsense,"  he  said.  "  She  vowed  the  fidelity  to  me 
which  I  gave  unreservedly  to  her;  but  what  sort  of 
inconstant  ideal  inspired  her  faith,  that  it  should  be 
shattered  to  atoms  by  the  first  real  test?  Could  I 
ever  trust  her  again?  If  it  were  possible,  which  it  is 
not,  that  some  new  whim  drove  her  back  to  America, 
am  I  a  toy  dog  to  be  whistled  to  heel  as  soon  as  her 
woman's  caprice  dictates?  To  please  her  father,  she 
married  Marten;  to  placate  her  father,  she  has  gone 
back  to  Marten ;  to  gratify  some  feminine  impulse,  she 
flung  herself  in  my  arms ;  when  impulse,  or  duty  as  she 
calls  it,  again  overcomes  reason,  she  may  summon  her 
obedient  slave  once  more.  Would  I  run  to  her  call? 
I  don't  know.     My  God!  I  don't  know." 


220  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

"  I'm  sure  you  don't,"  was  the  quiet  response ;  "  nor 
do  you  know  how  unjust  you  are  being  to  her,  leaving 
me  out  of  the  question  altogether.  You  are  like  a  dis- 
masted ship  in  a  storm,  driven  this  way  and  that  by 
every  cross  sea,  yet  drifting  hopelessly  nearer  a  rock- 
bound  coast.  Yet  men  have  saved  their  lives  even  in 
such  desperate  conditions.  At  the  worst,  short  of 
death,  they  have  scrambled  ashore,  bruised  and  maimed, 
but  living.  Now,  I  ask  you  to  suspend  judgment  for 
a  few  days,  or  weeks.  Enlightenment  may  come — it 
must  come — perhaps  from  a  source  you  little  dream 
of  now.  Suppose  I  practise  what  I  preach,  and  talk 
of  something  else.  I  think  I  have  whipped  you  out  of 
a  lethargy  that  was  harmful,  and,  in  so  far,  have  done 
you  good.  But  I'm  not  here  to  discuss  problems  of 
psychology  which  are  insoluble — for  the  present,  at 
any  rate.  Tell  me  something  of  your  property,  of  the 
mine,  of  Bison.  What  delightful  character- types  you 
picked  up  in  MacGonigal  and  that  picturesque-looking 
cowboy.  And  how  did  the  latter  gentleman  lose 
the  thumb  off  his  left  hand.''  Was  it  a  mere  acci- 
dent .f'  I  hope  not.  I  rather  expect  to  hear  a  page 
out  of  the  real  history  of  the  wild  and  woolly 
West." 

Power  was  slightly  ashamed  of  his  outburst  already. 
"  You  make  me  feel  myself  a  blatant  misanthropist," 
he  said  contritely.  "  I  had  no  right  to  blaze  out  at 
you  in  that  way.  But,  now  you  are  here,  you  shall 
not  escape  so  easily.  Again,  and  most  heartily,  I  thank 
you  for  coming.  I  realize  now  that  what  I  wanted 
more  than  anything  else  in  the  world  was  some  sym- 
pathetic ear  into  which  to  pour  my  griefs.    Ordinarily, 


After  Darkness,  Light  221 

I  am  not  that  sort  of  man.  I  prefer  to  endure  the 
minor  ills  of  life  in  silence.  But  I  have  been  slammed 
so  hard  this  time  that  self-control  became  a  torture. 
I  think  I  reached  the  full  extent  of  mj  resources  when 
I  stood  by  my  mother's  open  grave  today,  and  saw 
her  name  on  the  coffin.  I  wanted  to  tear  my  heart  out 
with  my  own  hands.  For  a  few  seconds  I  was  actu- 
ally insane." 

"  MacGonigal  told  me  how  terribly  shaken  you  were. 
He  said  you  would  have  fallen  if  he  had  not  held 
you  up." 

"Ah,  was  that  it?  I  suppose  I  nearly  fainted. 
Some  nerve  in  my  brain  seemed  to  snap.  Perhaps  that 
is  why  I  am  talking  at  random  now." 

Not  all  Dacre's  tact  could  stop  the  imminent  re- 
cital of  events  since  their  last  meeting.  Yet,  curiously 
enough.  Power  seemed  to  grow  calmer,  more  even- 
minded,  as  he  told  of  his  idyl  and  its  dramatic  close. 
By  the  time  they  had  reached  the  house  again  he  had 
recast  his  views  as  to  Nancy's  desertion  of  him.  Dur- 
ing some  few  days  thereafter  Fate  ceased  her  out- 
rageous attacks,  and  he  was  vouchsafed  a  measure  of 
peace. 

The  next  blow  came  from  an  unexpected  hand.  Mrs. 
Moore  and  her  daughters  were  about  to  leave  Bison 
for  their  home  in  San  Francisco.  All  preparations 
were  made,  and  their  baggage  was  piled  on  the  veranda 
ready  for  transport  to  the  station,  when  the  good  lady 
who  had  proved  such  a  stanch  friend  in  an  emergency 
called  Power  into  the  library.  He  noticed  that  she 
was  carrying  a  small  package,  wrapped  in  a  piece  of 
linen,  and  tied  with  white  ribbon. 


222  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

"  Derry,"  she  said,  "  I  have  one  sad  duty  to  per- 
form before  I  go." 

He  winced  slightly.  He  was  beginning  to  hate  that 
word  "  duty."  The  very  sound  of  it  was  ominous,  full 
of  foreboding. 

"  It  is  nothing  to  cause  you  any  real  sorrow,"  she 
went  on,  thinking  he  had  misinterpreted  her  words. 
*'  Just  before  your  dear  mother's  death  she  gave  me  to 
understand  that  I  was  to  take  charge  of  a  bundle  of 
letters  which  she  kept  under  her  pillow.  They  were 
meant  for  you,  I  suppose;  but  unfortunately  I  could 
not  make  out  her  wishes.  Anyhow,  here  they  are.  You 
are  the  one  person  in  the  world  who  can  decide  whether 
or  not  they  should  be  destroyed.  I  put  them  in  a 
locked  box,  and  would  have  given  them  to  you  sooner, 

but "     She  hesitated,  seemingly  at  a  loss   for  a 

word. 

*'  But  I  was  acting  like  a  lunatic,  and  you  were 
afraid  of  the  consequences,"  he  said,  with  a  pleasant 
smile. 

"  Well,  I  have  never  seen  any  man  so  hard  hit,"  she 
admitted.  "  Mr.  Dacre's  arrival  was  a  perfect  God- 
send, for  you  and  all  of  us;  so  I  thought  it  best  to 
keep  these  letters  longer  than  I  had  planned  at  first, 
though  I  am  sure  there  is  nothing  in  them  to  cause 
you  any  distress.  Indeed,  I  have  an  idea  that  they 
are  mostly  your  own  correspondence,  sent  from  New 
York  and  elsewhere,  because  I  saw  your  handwriting 
on  an  envelop,  and  a  postmark.  You  are  not  vexed 
with  me  for  retaining  them  until  today  ?  " 

Power  reassured  her  on  that  point.  He  placed  the 
packet,  just  as  it  was,  in  a  drawer  of  a  writing-desk, 


After  Darkness,  Light  223 

and  did  not  open  it  until  he  had  returned  from 
the  station  after  escorting  the  women  to  their 
train. 

Dacre  had  strolled  to  the  outbuildings  to  inspect 
a  reaping-machine  of  new  design  which  had  been  pro- 
cured for  harvesting  work;  so  the  room  was  other- 
wise untenanted  when  the  son  began  to  examine  his 
mother's  last  bequest.  At  first  it  seemed  as  if  Mrs. 
Moore's  surmise  was  correct.  The  first  few  letters  he 
glanced  at  were  those  he  had  despatched  from  New 
York  and  Newport.  Then  he  came  upon  others  posted 
at  Racket,  and  a  twinge  of  remorse  shook  him  when 
he  recalled  the  subterfuges  and  evasions  they  contained. 
Still  it  had  been  impossible  to  set  forth  the  truth,  and 
there  was  a  crumb  of  comfort  in  the  fact  that  he  had 
written  nothing  untrue. 

He  was  so  disturbed  by  the  painful  memories  evoked 
by  each  date  that  he  was  on  the  verge  of  tying  the  bun- 
dle together  again  when  his  eye  was  caught  by  one 
letter  in  a  strange  handwriting.  The  postmark  showed 
that  it  hailed  from  New  York,  and  the  date  was  a 
curious  one,  being  exactly  six  days  after  he  and  Nancy 
went  from  Newport. 

Instantly  he  was  aware  of  a  strong  impulse  to  bum 
that  particular  letter  forthwith.  Perhaps  some  psychic 
influence  made  itself  felt  in  that  instant.  Perhaps  a 
gentle  and  loving  spirit  reached  from  beyond  the  veil, 
and  made  one  last  effort  to  secure  the  fulfilment  of  a 
desire  balked  by  the  cruel  urgency  of  death.  But  the 
forces  of  evil  prevailed,  and  Power  withdrew  the  writ- 
ten sheet  from  its  covering. 

And  this  is  what  he  read: 


224  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

"Madam. — Your  son^  John  Darien  Power,  has  prob- 
ably represented  to  you  that  he  is  detained  in  the  East 
by  certain  horse-dealing  transactions.  That  is  a  lie.  He 
has  gone  off  with  another  man's  wife.  But  his  punishment 
will  be  swift  and  sure.  He  cannot  escape  it.  Its  nature 
will  depend  on  the  decision  arrived  at  by  the  woman  he 
has  wronged.  I  am  telling  you  the  facts  so  that  you  may 
be  in  a  position  to  form  a  just  judgment,  whether  or  not 
you  ever  see  him  again.  Keep  this  letter;  although  it  is 
unsigned.  If  circumstances  require  its  production,  the 
writer  will  not  shirk  responsibility  for  either  its  statements 
or  its  threats.'* 

Dacre  came  in  nearly  an  hour  later.  After  witness- 
ing an  exhibition  of  the  new  reaper,  he  had  gone  with 
Jake  to  admire  some  of  Power's  recent  purchases  in 
horse-flesh,  and  the  time  passed  rapidly.  When  he 
entered  the  room,  he  found  his  friend  sitting  in  the 
shadows. 

"  Hello !  "  he  cried.  "  I  didn't  know  you  had  re- 
turned. I've  been  vetting  those  black  Russians  you 
bought  at  Newport.     What  a  pair  for  a  tandem !  " 

"  Did  Dr.  Stearn  ever  tell  you  the  exact  cause  of  my 
mother's  death  .'^  "  was  the  curiously  inappropriate  re- 
ply, uttered  in  a  low  tone. 

"  Y-yes ;  acute  ulcerative  endocarditis  was  the  ac- 
tual cause.  But  why  in  the  world  do  you  ask  such  a 
question  now.?  " 

"  Because  our  worthy  doctor  was  mistaken.  I  alone 
know  why  she  died.  I  killed  her.  You  recollect  I 
said  as  much  to  you  the  day  you  arrived." 

"  I  wish  to  goodness  you  would  cease  talking,  or  even 
thinking,   such   arrant  rubbish ! " 


After  DarknesSj  Light  225 

"Nothing  could  be  so  certain.  Willard  wrote  and 
told  her  I  had  taken  Nancy  away  from  Marten.  Wil- 
lard struck  the  blow;  but  I  forged  the  weapon.  My 
mother  lay  dj'ing  while  I  was  philandering  with  an- 
other man's  wife.  Poor  soul!  She  tried  to  have  the 
letter  destroyed — to  spare  me,  no  doubt — but  the  dag- 
ger I  placed  in  Willard's  hand  had  pierced  so  deep  that 
she  died  with  the  words  of  forgiveness  on  her  lips. 
No,  you  need  not  worry  unduly,  Dacre;  though  I  have 
no  right  to  harrow  your  feelings  in  this  way.  I  shall 
not  anticipate  the  decree  of  Providence  by  self-murder. 
My  worst  chastisement  now  is  to  live,  knowing  that  I 
killed  my  mother." 

"  What  damned  rot ! "  broke  out  Dacre  furiously. 

Power  rose,  went  to  his  friend,  and  put  a  hand  on 
his  shoulder.  He  smiled,  with  an  odd  semblance  of 
content. 

"  You're  a  good  chap,"  he  said,  "  but  a  poor  actor. 
You  know  I  am  right.  You  wouldn't  stand  in  my 
shoes  for  all  the  gold  in  the  Indies ;  *  for  what  doth  it 
profit  a  man  if  he  gain  the  whole  world  and  lose  his 
own  soul?  '  I've  lost  mine.  I  must  try  and  find  it  again. 
Don't  you  see?  That  is  my  only  chance.  Good  God! 
If  there  is  another  and  a  better  life  hereafter,  I  cannot 
meet  my  mother  and  tell  her  that  I  valued  my  wretched 
husk  of  a  body  so  greatly  that  I  made  no  search  for 
the  soul  I  flung  away.  I've  thought  it  all  out.  The 
road  is  open  and  marked  with  signposts.  A  man 
without  a  soul  can  surely  afford  to  risk  his  body. 
Come!  It  is  growing  dark,  and  this  room  will  soon 
be  peopled  with  ghosts.  Let's  walk  in  the  fresh,  cool 
air,  and  I'll  explain  myself  clearly." 


CHAPTER  Xin 

THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE 
PILGRIMAGE 

At  first  none  save  Dacre  knew  what  was  going  on. 
To  MacGonigal  and  Jake  it  seemed  that  Power  was 
merely  seeking  distraction  by  putting  his  affairs  in 
order,  and  they  regarded  such  healing  activity  with 
joy.  People  in  Bison,  too,  were  delighted  by  the  change 
in  his  habits.  The  man  who  used  to  leave  to  his  mother 
everything  connected  with  the  social  well-being  of  the 
town  now  gave  these  matters  his  close  interest,  and 
inquired  thoroughly  into  the  philanthropic  schemes  to 
which  she  had  devoted  so  much  time  and  almost  un- 
stinted means;  incidentally,  he  contrived  to  puzzle  Dr. 
Stearn. 

One  day,  when  in  Denver  on  business,  he  called  at 
the  doctor's  house. 

"  I  want  you  to  clear  up  a  point  that  is  bothering 
me,"  he  said.  "  Suppose  nothing  unusual  had  occurred 
to  hasten  my  mother's  death,  how  long  would  she  have 
lived?  " 

"  Nothing  unusual  did  occur,"  insisted  Steam. 

"  Ah !  I  have  expressed  myself  awkwardly.  How 
long,  then,  under  the  most  favorable  conditions,  could 
she  have  lived  ?  " 

"  Three  or  four  years." 

"Five?" 


The  Beginning  of  the  Pilgrimage     227 

**  It  is  possible." 
"Six?" 

«  I  should  doubt  it." 
"Seven?" 

"You  are  marching  too  rapidly.     If  Mrs.  Power 
lived  seven  years  with  inflamed  aortic  valves,  I  should 
regard  the  fact  as  something  akin  to  a  miracle." 
"  But  miracles  do  happen,  even  in  science?  " 
"  Urn— yes." 

"  Thank  you,  Doctor.  That  is  all  I  wish  to  know. 
Anything  you  want  for  your  poorer  patients  ?  " 

Stearn  laughed.  "Great  Scott!"  he  cried,  "you 
ought  to  come  with  me  on  a  round  of  visits.  It  would 
be  an  eye-opener  for  a  wealthy  young  sprig  like  you. 
Why,  if  I  had  ten  dollars  a  day  to  spend  on  special 
diet,  stimulants,  and  the  like,  I  could  get  through  every 
cent  of  the  money." 

"  Sorry  I  haven't  time  today  for  slumming.    Goodby. 
I  may  not  see  you  again  for  quite  awhile." 
"Going  abroad?" 
"  Yes  ;  but  my  plans  are  indefinite." 
"  Well,  young  man,  when  you  come  back  to  Colo- 
rado, bring  a  wife,  or,  better  still,  look  around  for  one 
before  you  go." 

"  I'll  think  it  over.  But  I  must  be  ofF.  I'm  due  at 
my  lawyer's." 

"  Those  fellows  who  rake  in  gold  by  the  bushel 
are  all  alike,"  grumbled  Stearn,  when  the  door  had 
closed  on  his  visitor.  "  I  did  imagine,  after  what  he 
had  said,  that  he  would  skin  a  fifty  off  his  wad  for  the 
benefit  of  the  poor  bedridden  devils  on  my  list.  Ah, 
well!     They'll  miss  his  mother  at  Bison.     And  what 


228  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

did  he  mean  by  his  questions?  On  my  honor,  he  struck 
me  as  slightly  cracked." 

A  fortnight  later,  when  Power  was  far  beyond  the 
reach  of  thanks,  the  cashier  of  Smith  &  Moffat's  bank 
sent  a  formal  little  note,  stating  that  he  was  instructed 
by  Mr.  John  Darien  Power  to  hand  him  (Dr.  Stearn) 
one  hundred  dollars  on  the  first  of  every  month  during 
the  next  seven  years,  "  for  the  benefit  of  the  sick  poor 
in  your  district,  and  in  memory  of  Mary  Elizabeth 
Power."    If  the  doctor  would  kindly  call,  etc. 

Stearn  rubbed  his  chin  thoughtfully.  "  Oh,"  said  he, 
to  himself,  "  is  that  what  he  was  after?  Well,  it's  a 
lesson,  even  to  a  gray  head  like  me.  I  misjudged  him 
shockingly." 

That  same  period  of  seven  years  proved  a  stumbling- 
block  to  others  beside  the  gruff  but  kind-hearted  medico. 
Peter  MacGonigal,  for  one,  was  "  dog-goned  etarnally  " 
when  he  heard  of  it.  A  lawyer  and  two  bankers,  one 
from  Denver  and  another  from  New  York,  were  ap- 
pointed trustees  of  Power's  estate,  real  and  personal, 
and  the  arrangement  was  partly  explained  to  Mac 
and  Jake,  so  that  they  might  understand  how  their 
interests  would  be  safeguarded.  On  that  historic  occa- 
sion Jake's  real  name  was  disclosed.  Hitherto,  no  one 
in  Bison  beliieved  that  he  possessed  a  surname;  but, 
under  pressure,  he  "  allowed  "  he  was  "  riz  "  in  Texas, 
and  his  father's  name  was  James  Cutler. 

The  arrangement  was  that  MacGonigal  should  con- 
trol the  mine  and  Jake  the  ranch  for  seven  years.  If 
Power  did  not  return  about  the  end  of  that  time,  and 
both  men  were  living,  a  further  six  months  should 
be  allowed  to  pass,  and  then  each  would  become  the 


The  Beginning  of  the  Pilgrimage      229 

owner  of  the  respective  properties  under  highly  fa- 
vorable terms. 

"  I  may  as  well  say  that  I  shall  come  back  right 
enough,"  said  Power,  smiling  at  their  bewilderment. 
"  I  am  only  settling  matters  now  to  please  my  lawyer, 
who  wants  to  avoid  a  suit  for  intestacy,  or  a  long 
argument  to  presume  my  death  in  case  I  am  not  heard 
of  again.    That  is  all." 

"  Is  it  ?  "  gasped  MacGonigal. 

"  Yes.  In  any  event,  neither  of  you  will  be  a 
loser." 

"  But  whar  in  hell  air  you  goin',  Derry?  " 

This,  from  the  man  who  never  swore,  was  electrical. 
Jake  said  afterward  that  he  felt  his  hair  "  stannin' 
right  up  on  end." 

"  I  am  undertaking  a  quest,"  said  Power  seriously. 

"An'  what  the—  Gosh!  I'll  bust!  What's  a 
*  quest,'  anyhow?  " 

"  In  this  instance,  it  implies  a  pilgrimage  in  far 
lands.  Don't  ask  me  anything  else,  Mac,  because  I 
shall  not  answer." 

"  You'll  be  needin'  a  plug  or  two,  maybe  ?  "  put  in 
Jake  anxiously. 

"  If  I  do,  I'll  send  word." 

They  could  extract  no  further  information.  Cer- 
tain documents  were  signed  with  due  solemnity,  and 
the  conclave  broke  up.  The  three  trustees  took  the 
opportunity  offered  by  Power's  departure  for  the  town 
to  sound  Dacre,  who  was  present,  as  to  their  client's 
intentions.  But  he,  as  a  loyal  friend,  though  greatly 
in  Power's  confidence,  could  not  reveal  his  motives ; 
while,  as  to  his  plans,  he  was  free  to  admit,  quite  can- 


230  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

didly,  that  he  had  not  the  slightest  notion  of  their 
nature.  Thus,  Bison  awoke  one  morning  to  find  that 
its  chief  citizen  had  left  the  place  overnight.  It  was 
only  by  degrees  that  the  inhabitants  discovered  how 
thoroughly  he  had  inquired  into  and  anticipated  local 
needs.  Means  were  forthcoming  for  every  judicious  so- 
cial enterprise.  The  man  had  gone;  but  his  money 
remained. 

Dacre  accompanied  him  to  Denver.  They  separated 
on  a  platform  of  the  station  at  the  foot  of  17th  Street, 
and,  at  the  twelfth  hour,  the  Englishman  made  a  last 
effort  to  dissuade  his  friend  from  embarking  on  what 
he  regarded  as  a  fantastic  adventure. 

"  I  don't  know  where  you  are  heading  for.  Power," 
he  said.  "  You  have  not  told  me,  and  I  can  only  sup- 
pose you  mean  to  be  lost  to  the  world.'* 

"  Something  like  that,"  and  Power  smiled  frankly. 
His  face  no  longer  wore  the  hunted,  harassed  aspect 
of  a  man  who  finds  the  unhappiness  of  life  almost  un- 
bearable. A  new  look  had  come  into  his  eyes.  He 
seemed  to  be  gazing  constantly  at  some  far  horizon  not 
bounded  by  earth  and  sky,  a  dim,  sunless  line  beyond 
which  lay  a  mysterious  land  of  peace,  a  kingdom  akin 
to  Nirvana,  the  realm  of  extinction. 

"  Shall  I  not  hear  from  you,  even  once  a  year.'' " 

"  It  is  improbable,"  was  the  grave  answer. 

"  But  I  refuse  to  believe  that  you  and  I  are  parting 
now  forever." 

"  If  Providence  wills  it,  we  shall  meet  again.  I  hope 
so.  If  ever  I  find  myself  back  in  the  crowded  high- 
way, I  shall  look  for  you." 

"  Can't  I  induce  you,  even  now,  to  come  with  me  to 


The  Beginning  of  the  Pilgrimage     231 

England?  I'm  tired  of  globe-trotting.  You  would 
find  my  place  in  Devonshire  a  quiet  nook." 

"  I'll  come  to  you  sometime." 

Then,  greatly  daring,  Dacre  urged  a  plea  so  cruelly 
direct  that  he  had  not  ventured  to  use  it  before  this 
final  moment. 

"  Have  you  reflected  as  to  the  effect  of  this  action 
of  yours  on  Nancy  when  she  hears  of  it?"  he  said. 
"  I  may  run  up  against  her.  There  are  only  ten  thou- 
sand of  us,  you  know.  She  will  surely  ask  me  what  has 
become  of  you.    What  am  I  to  tell  her?  " 

Power  had  not  spoken  of  Nancy  during  a  month  or 
more,  and  his  friend  thought  that  a  sudden  thrust* 
ing  of  her  image  before  his  eyes  would  startle  him  out 
of  the  semihypnotic  condition  in  which  he  appeared 
to  exist.  But,  to  Dacre's  chagrin  and  astonishment, 
the  ruse  failed  utterly.  Power  evidently  found  the 
point  thus  unexpectedly  raised  somewhat  perplexing. 

"Tell  her?"  he  repeated,  in  a  most  matter-of-fact 
tone.  "  Is  it  necessary  to  tell  her  anything?  But,  of 
course,  you  will  say  you  saw  the  last  of  me,  and  a 
woman  hates  to  be  ignored,  even  by  the  man  she  has 
discarded.  Tell  her,  then,  that  in  India  there  are 
Hindus  of  devout  intent  who  measure  two  thousand 
miles  of  a  sacred  river  by  prostrations  along  its  banks. 
These  devotees  have  done  no  wrong  to  any  human  be- 
ing, and  their  notion  of  service  is  sublimely  ridiculous. 
But  if,  among  them,  was  a  poor  wretch  who  had  com- 
mitted an  unforgivable  crime,  and  Tie  thought  to  ex- 
piate it  by  carrying  sharp  flints  on  which  to  fling 
himself  each  yard  of  the  way,  one  could  understand 


232  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

"  That  is  no  message  to  Nancy,"  persisted  Dacre. 

"  If  she  pouts,  and  sajs  so,  remind  her  of  my  moth- 
er's death." 

"  Oh,  I  shall  leave  you  In  anger  If  you  talk  in  that 
way." 

"  No,  you  won't.  You're  really  more  than  a  little 
sorry  for  me.  You  think,  perhaps,  I  am  rather  mad ; 
but,  on  reflection,  you  will  be  pleased  at  that,  because 
a  lunatic  can  be  contented  in  his  folly,  and  I  know 
you  wish  me  content.  Here's  my  train.  San  Fran- 
cisco Is  a  great  jumping-ofF  place.  *  Last  seen  in 
San  Francisco '  is  quite  a  common  headline  in  the 
newspapers.  Goodby!  I'll  look  you  up  in  Devon- 
shire, never  fear.  Mind  you  are  there  to  receive 
me." 

And  he  was  gone.  Dacre  turned  his  face  to  the  east. 
During  the  long  journey  to  Washington,  where  he 
meant  to  visit  some  friends  before  crossing  the  Atlantic, 
he  thought  often  of  Power.  Speaking  of  him  one  day 
to  a  man  of  some  influence  in  the  Department  of  State, 
he  Inquired  if  there  were  any  means  of  keeping  track 
of  the  wanderer  without  his  cognizance. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  official.  "  We  can  send  out  a  pri- 
vate consular  note.  Have  you  any  Idea  which  way  he 
is  heading?  " 

"  Not  the  faintest.  From  a  sort  of  hint  he  let  drop, 
he  may  intend  joining  a  Buddhist  community  In  India 
or  Ceylon.  At  any  rate,  he  had  been  reading  some 
book  on  India.  But  the  assumption  Is  too  vague  to 
be  of  value." 

"  Well,  I'll  see  what  can  be  done." 

By  the  next  mail,  every  United  States  consulate  In 


The  Beginning  of  the  Pilgrimage      233 

the  world  was  asked  to  report  to  Washington  if  John 
Darien  Power,  an  American  citizen,  appeared  within 
its  jurisdiction.  No  report  ever  arrived.  Long  be- 
fore the  inquiry  reached  the  one  consul  who  might  have 
learned  something  of  his  whereabouts,  Power  had  van- 
ished off  the  map ;  a  phrase  which,  in  this  instance,  hap- 
pened to  be  literally  true.  Thus,  Dacre's  well-meant 
efforts  to  keep  in  touch  with  his  friend  were  frus- 
trated, and,  for  the  time,  he  drops  out  of  this 
history. 

When  Power  arrived  in  San  Francisco,  though  his 
definite  project  as  to  the  future  involved  a  long  dis- 
appearance from  the  haunts  of  civilized  men,  he  had 
not  decided  where  to  pitch  his  tent.  He  had  actually 
thought,  as  Dacre  surmised,  of  going  to  the  inner  fast- 
nesses of  the  Himalayas;  but  his  voluntary  exile 
connoted  something  more  than  mere  effacement — it 
meant  suffering,  and  sacrifice,  and  the  succor  of  earth's 
miserable  ones — and  the  barrier  of  language  shut  out 
the  East.  Again,  there  was  little,  if  any,  element  of 
danger  attached  to  a  sojourn  in  the  hilly  solitudes  of 
Hindustan;  it  even  appealed  to  his  student's  proclivi- 
ties. So,  for  that  reason  alone,  it  was  dismissed.  Span- 
ish was  the  only  foreign  tongue  he  was  thoroughly 
conversant  with,  and  his  thoughts  turned  to  Spanish- 
speaking  South  America.  He  made  up  his  mind  to  go 
there,  and  search  for  his  field. 

San  Francisco  was  the  city  of  his  childhood.  In 
happier  conditions,  it  could  hardly  fail  to  evoke  pleas- 
ant memories.  The  Moores  lived  there,  and  they,  aided 
by  a  host  of  oldtime  acquaintances,  would  gladly  have 
made  him  welcome ;  but  he  avoided  such  snares  by  driv- 


234  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

ing  straight  to  the  offices  of  the  Pacific  Steamship  Com- 
pany, where  he  ascertained  that  the  mail  steamer 
Panama  sailed  for  Valparaiso  that  day. 

He  was  on  board  within  the  hour,  and  remained  in 
his  cabin  until  the  engines  started.  Then  he  went 
on  deck,  and  bade  farewell  to  a  land  where  he  had 
worked,  and  dreamed,  and  endured,  during  the  full 
years  of  his  lost  youth.  Practically  his  last  intimate 
glimpse  of  the  West,  save  for  distant  views  of  the  Cali- 
fornia coast,  and  a  fleeting  call  at  San  Diego,  was 
obtained  when  the  vessel  passed  through  the  Golden 
Gate.  Bitter-sweet  recollections  warred  in  heart  and 
brain  as  he  watched  the  beautiful  and  well-loved  pano- 
rama. Every  bold  promontory  and  sequestered  bay  of 
the  miles  of  narrow  straits  were  familiar  to  his  eyes. 
If  there  was  aught  of  weakness  in  his  composition,  it 
must  have  made  its  presence  felt  then;  but  that  there 
could  be  any  turning  back  did  not  even  occur  to  his 
vague  thoughts.  He  might  be  moving  swiftly  into 
unfathomable  night;  his  action  might  be  deemed  either 
stubborn  or  irresponsible ;  he  might  be  regarded  as  the 
victim  of  deep  delusion;  but  at  least  it  must  be  said 
of  him  that  he  never  flinched  from  the  barren  outlook 
or  admitted  the  possibility  of  retreat.  Hitherto  love 
for  his  mother  had  exercised  the  most  lasting  and  salu- 
tary influence  on  his  life.  The  depth  and  intensity 
of  that  love  was  the  gage  of  his  horror  when  he  dis- 
covered that  he  had  caused  her  death.  His  emotions 
were  incapable  of  logical  analysis.  She  was  dead.  His 
forbidden  passion  for  another  woman  had  killed  her. 
She  might  have  lived  seven  years.  For  seven  years  he 
would  placate  her  spirit  "  in  weariness  and  painfulness, 


The  Beginning  of  the  Pilgrimage     235 

in  watchings  often,  in  hunger  and  thirst,  in  fastings 
often,  in  cold  and  nakedness." 

His  strength  was  that  of  the  mind.  He  was  of  the 
order  of  chivalry.  His  renunciation  would  have  been 
well  understood  by  a  few  men  who  lived  and  had  their 
being  a  thousand  years  ago.  In  the  America  of  the 
early  '90's,  had  his  undertaking  been  known,  which 
it  was  not,  nor  ever  has  been  till  this  writing,  the  heed- 
less majority  must  have  wagged  sapient  noddles,  and 
cried  in  chorus,  "  He  is  mad !  " 

A  discriminating  purser  allotted  him  to  the  captain's 
table,  and  at  dinner  that  evening  he  found  himself 
next  to  a  Chilean  merchant.  This  man  sat  on  his  left. 
On  the  right  was  an  empty  chair,  which  adjoined  the 
commander's  position  at  the  head  of  the  table. 

The  captain  greeted  him  with  the  ready  camaraderie 
of  the  sea. 

"  My  ward  has  not  put  in  an  appearance,"  he  said, 
nodding  toward  the  vacant  place.  "  She  can't  be  ill 
yet,  anyhow;  but,  like  most  women,  I  suppose,  she  is 
unpunctual." 

"  Is  lack  of  punctuality  a  feminine  failing?  "  said 
Power,  seeing  that  he  was  expected  to  answer. 

The  sailor  laughed.  "  It  is  evident  you  are  not  a 
married  man,  Mr.  Power,  or  you  wouldn't  need  to  ask," 
he  said. 

"  How  true  I  "  piped  the  Chilean,  in  a  singularly  high- 
pitched  voice.  The  people  at  that  end  of  the  table 
grinned,  and  the  Chilean  instantly  won  a  reputation  as 
a  humorist.  Some  days  passed  before  they  discovered 
that  he  had  brought  off  his  only  joke  thus  early  in  the 


236  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

voyage.  He  possessed  a  fund  of  Information  about  ni- 
trate and  guano;  but  these  topics  were  not  popular, 
so  his  conversational  talent  exhausted  Itself  In  that  one 
comment.  On  this  occasion  It  happened  to  be  appro- 
priate. 

Power,  who  had  summed  him  up  as  a  dull  dog  at  a 
glance,  was  surveying  him  with  a  degree  of  surprise 
when  he  became  aware  that  the  missing  lady  had  ar- 
rived. She  had  slipped  into  her  chair  quietly,  and  was 
apologizing  for  being  late. 

"  I  am  usually  a  most  methodical  person,"  she  said ; 
"  but  I  mislaid  a  key " 

She  broke  off,  In  smiling  embarrassment,  because  of 
the  general  laughter,  and  the  captain  had  to  explain 
that  the  wretched  males  present  had  been  vili- 
fying her  sex. 

"  There  was  one  exception,  though,"  he  rattled  on. 
"  Our  friend  on  your  left  seemed  to  think  otherwise. 
Mr.  Power,  let  me  introduce  you  to  Miss  Marguerite 
Sinclair," 

Yielding  to  convention — most  potent  of  human  ties — 
Power  turned  with  a  polite  bow;  but  not  even  his 
preoccupied  mind  was  proof  against  the  feeling  of  stupe- 
faction caused  by  his  first  Impression  of  the  captain's 
"  ward."  She  certainly  owned  a  girlish  and  graceful 
figure,  and  her  brown  hair  was  glossy  and  abundant; 
but  her  skin  was  withered,  and  that  side  of  her  face 
which  was  visible  bore  a  number  of  livid  scars.  It  was 
impossible  to  determine  her  age.  The  slim,  willowy 
body  and  really  beautiful  hair  apparently  indicated 
youth;  but  the  appalling  disfigurement  of  the  face, 
which  extended  from  the  top  of  the  cheek  to  the  slender 


The  Beginning  of  the  Pilgrimage     237 

column  of  her  neck,  simply  forbade  any  accurate  esti- 
mate. The  pity  of  it  was  that  her  profile  was  faultless, 
and  a  little  pink  shell  of  an  ear  was  almost  fantastically 
opposed  to  the  shriveled  and  scar-seamed  features  ad- 
joining it.  Yet,  in  some  indescribable  way,  she 
reminded  him  of  Nancy,  and  the  notion  was  so  gro- 
tesque and  abhorrent  that  he  shuddered. 

Luckily,  her  attention  was  drawn  for  a  moment  by 
a  steward,  and  he  had  recovered  his  wits  before  she 
looked  at  him.  Then  he  found  that  her  eyes  were  pecu- 
liarly brilliant.  He  noted,  with  positive  relief,  that  they 
were  not  blue,  like  Nancy's,  but  brown.  They  had  a 
curiously  penetrative  quality,  too,  which  seemed  to  dis- 
pel the  repugnant  effect  of  the  accident.  He  saw  now 
that  she  must  have  sustained  some  grave  injury,  which 
marred  her  good  looks. 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said  composedly.  "  Usually,  I 
have  to  fight  my  own  battles.  It  will  be  quite  a  relief 
to  count  on  an  ally  so  valiant  that  he  draws  the  sword 
without  waiting  to  see  the  person  whose  cause  he 
espouses." 

Her  voice  was  cultured  and  incisive.  It  seemed  to 
offer  a  challenge  to  all  the  world;  yet  it  held  an  ar- 
resting note  of  cheerful  irony  that  betokened  an  equable 
temperament.  After  the  first  shock  of  surprise,  almost 
of  dismay,  had  passed.  Power  fancied  that  she  carried 
herself  thus  bravely  as  a  protest  against  the  brutality 
of  fate. 

They  spoke  but  little  during  the  progress  of  the 
meal,  and  he  avoided  looking  at  her.  Somehow,  he  was 
aware  that  she  would  resent  such  delicacy;  but  the  al- 
ternative of  a  too  curious  inspection  was  distasteful. 


288  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

Of  two  evils  he  chose  the  less ;  though  the  fact  that  any 
choice  was  called  for  in  the  matter  was  embarrass- 
ing. 

He  gathered  that  the  captain  and  Miss  Sinclair  were 
old  acquaintances.  There  were  allusions  to  relatives 
and  friends.  She  was  addressed  as  "  Meg."  It  was  to 
be  inferred  that  her  mother  was  dead,  that  she  had 
been  attending  a  session  of  the  Los  Angeles  University, 
and  that  she  was  now  on  the  way  to  rejoin  her  father. 

Some  man  at  the  table  spoke  of  the  pending  Presi- 
dential campaign,  and  the  "  sixteen  to  one  "  currency 
ratio  started  a  lively  argument.  An  advocate  of  a  gold 
basis  snorted  derisively  that  silver  could  be  mined  prof- 
itably at  eighteen  cents  an  ounce. 

"  How  true !  "  said  the  Chilean,  and  again  he  scored. 

Power  escaped  to  the  deck.  He  lit  a  cigar,  and  leaned 
on  the  starboard  rail,  gazing  at  a  magnificent  sunset 
which  glorified  the  infinity  of  waters.  He  wished  now 
he  had  avoided  a  mail  steamer,  with  its  elaborate  ele- 
gancies. Had  he  not  acted  so  precipitately  he  could 
have  sought  the  rough  hospitality  of  some  grimy  tramp, 
whence  woman  was  barred,  and  whose  skipper  would 
leave  him  in  peace. 

Suddenly  he  was  disturbed  by  Miss  Sinclair,  who 
joined  him  at  the  rail  with  a  quiet  confidence  of  de- 
meanor that  spoke  volumes  for  her  self-possession. 

"  Though  I  appeared  to  make  light  of  it  at  the  mo- 
ment, I  was  glad  to  hear  that  you  defended  me,"  she 
said,  smiling  at  him  with  those  lustrous,  deep-seeing 
eyes. 

He  was  rendered  nearly  tongue-tied  by  confusion; 
but  managed  to  blurt  out,  awkwardly  enough,  that  his 


The  Beginning  of  the  Pilgrimage     239 

championship  had  been  involuntary.  She  laughed  quite 
pleasantly. 

"  Does  that  mean  that,  now  you  have  seen  me,  you 
deem  me  capable  of  any  inquity?  "  she  said. 

"  You  give  me  credit  for  a  faculty  of  divination  which 
I  do  not  possess,"  he  retorted,  wondering  if  she  was 
really  alluding  to  her  own  unsightliness. 

"  Ah,  I  think  I  shall  like  you,"  she  said.  "  Most 
people  whom  I  meet  for  the  first  time  try  to  show  their 
pity  by  being  sympathetic.  They  simply  daren't  say, 
*  Good  gracious !  what  has  happened  to  your  poor  face  ?  ' 
so  they  put  on  their  best  hospital-ward-visitor  air,  and 
feel  so  sorry  for  me  that  I  want  to  smack  them.  Now, 
you  admit  candidly  that  I  may  be  as  villainous  as  I 
look,  and  such  honesty  is  a  positive  relief." 

"  Even  to  earn  your  good  opinion  I  refuse  to  ac- 
cept that  unfair  reading  of  my  words,"  he  said, 

"  Then  what  did  you  mean?  " 

"  I'm  afraid  I  was  talking  at  random." 

"  You  don't  look  that  sort  of  person.  Really,  Mr. 
Power,  you  and  I  will  get  on  famously  together  if  we 
tell  each  other  the  real  truth.  Are  we  to  be  fellow- 
passengers  as  far  as  Valparaiso?" 

"  Yes." 

"  There,  you  see !  Those  other  Philistines  would  have 
smirked  and  said,  *  I  hope  so.'  I  shall  enjoy  this  trip. 
Generally,  a  sea-voyage  bores  me." 

"  Are  you  much  traveled,  then?  " 

"  I  live  in  Patagonia." 

"  Does  that  statement  answer  my  question  ?  " 

"  Well,  yes.  No  one  lives  in  Patagonia  for  amuse- 
ment, and  some  among  those  who  are  compelled  to  re- 


240  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

side  there  get  away  as  often  as  their  means  permit. 
Patagonian  boarding-houses  don't  advertise  *  young  and 
musical  society,'  I  assure  you.  Our  population  is  some- 
thing under  one  to  the  square  mile." 

"  My  knowledge  of  the  Patagonian  is  limited ;  but  I 
have  always  understood  that  he  requires  just  about 
that  amount  of  space." 

"  Ah,  no !  Our  poor  giants  are  nearly  extinct. 
There  is  hardly  a  hundred  of  them,  all  told." 

"  My !    Who,  or  what,  cleared  them  out  .'*  " 

"  Measles.    Just  imagine  a  Brobdingnagian  measle !  " 

"  Are  you,  then,  a  type  of  the  present  inhabitants .''  " 

"  No.  My  ailment  was  due  to  being  knocked  insensi- 
ble during  a  fire." 

Power  reddened.  "  You  are  an  adept  in  twisting  the 
sense  of  the  most  commonplace  remarks,  to  say  the 
least,"  he  said,  careless  whether  or  not  he  annoyed  her. 

She  parried  this  thrust  with  sublime  unconcern :  "  I 
know.  It's  horrid.  But  I  had  to  tell  you.  Now 
I'll  be  good,  and  take  myself  off.  You'll  be  heartily 
sick  of  my  company  after  five  thousand  miles  of  it." 

Certainly  Miss  Marguerite  Sinclair's  unusual  meth- 
ods of  expressing  herself  struck  a  jarring  note,  and, 
whether  by  chance  or  by  the  exercise  of  rare  intui- 
tion, the  one  note  able  to  penetrate  Power's  armor  of 
indifference.  Her  somewhat  bizarre  personality  was 
vivid  in  his  mind  long  after  she  had  left  him;  but 
night  and  the  stars  brought  other  thoughts,  and 
blurred  the  sharp  lines  of  the  vignette. 

Next  morning  he  breakfasted  early,  and  alone.  After 
a  long  tramp  on  the  upper  deck,  he  asked  a  steward 
where  a  deck-chair  ordered  overnight  had  been  placed. 


The  Beginning  of  the  Pilgrimage     241 

The  man  inquired  his  name,  consulted  a  list,  and  led 
him  through  the  music-room  to  the  port  side.  The 
chair  stood  aft  of  the  companionway,  and  it  was  irri- 
tating to  find  the  neighboring  chair  occupied  by  a 
young  and  remarkably  pretty  woman,  who  seemed  to 
be  deeply  engrossed  in  a  book. 

"  I  prefer  the  starboard  side,"  he  said  sharply, 
"  Bring  it  along,  and  I'll  show  you  where  to  put  it." 

The  lady  lifted  her  eyes  to  his  in  an  amused,  side- 
long glance. 

"  Good-morning,  Mr.  Power,"  she  said.  "  You  are 
pardoned  for  thinking  there  is  a  conspiracy  floating 
around;  but  there  isn't." 

Power  was  staggered ;  but  he  did  not  mean  to  provide 
a  permanent  target  for  the  shafts  of  Miss  Marguerite 
Sinclair's  wit.  At  present  she  was  treating  him  as 
though  she  were  "  rotting  "  some  small  schoolboy. 

"Leave  the  chair — I  have  changed  my  mind,"  he 
said,  and  dismissed  the  steward  with  a  tip.  Then  he 
sat  down,  and  scrutinized  the  girl  so  brazenly  that  her 
eyes  fell,  and  she  blushed. 

"  There  is  no  help  for  it,"  he  explained.  "  I  sup- 
pose we  ought  to  be  able,  at  least,  to  recognize  each 
other  when  we  meet." 

"  I  should  know  you  again  in  twenty  years ;  you  are 
not  a  two-faced  person,  like  me,"  she  retorted. 

"  It  is  consoling  to  find  that  you  can  be  as  unfair 
to  yourself  as  you  were  to  me  last  night." 

"  Would  you  have  me  twist  my  neck  like  a  parrot, 
and  say,  *  Please  look  on  this  picture,  not  on  that,'  when 
a  stranger  happens  to  be  to  port  instead  of  to  star- 
board? " 


242  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

"I  do  really  think  it  would  be  worth  while,"  he 
said. 

He  saw  now  that  she  was  a  girl  of  twenty  or  there- 
abouts, and  a  singularly  attractive  one  from  this  new 
point  of  view.  He  felt  that  he  must  atone  for  the  curt 
order  to  the  steward;  but  she  only  laughed  at  the  im- 
plied compliment. 

"  The  poor  fellow  saw  us  talking  together,  and  ar- 
ranged the  chairs  accordingly,"  she  said.  "  I'm  frankly 
pleased,  and  you  say  you  are ;  so  that's  all  right.  Let 
us  swap  symptoms,  as  grand  folk  do  in  society.  I 
have  told  you  how  I  secured  my  keepsake.  How  did 
you  acquire  a  limp  ?  " 

"  By  lying  too  long  in  one  position,"  he  replied,  un- 
consciously emulating  her  flippancy. 

"  Dear  me !  Why  didn't  you  try  some  other  sort 
of  lie?" 

"  Because  I  was  pinned  down  to  the  original  state- 
ment by  a  ton  of  rock." 

"  I  should  have  thought  that  the  noise  would  have 
waked  you  up." 

"  That  remark  is  a  trifle  too  subtle  for  my  dull 
wits." 

"  I  watched  you  strolling  about  this  morning, 
and  decided  that  you  were  walking  in  your 
sleep." 

"  You  shouldn't  jump  at  conclusions.  If  I  judged 
you  by  your  pointed  style  of  speech,  I  might  regard 
you  as  a  new  species  of  porcupine." 

*^  Good !  "  she  said  approvingly.  "  I  was  sure  we'd 
become  friends.  I  wish  my  father  knew  you.  He 
would  like  you." 


The  Beginning  of  the  Pilgrimage     243 

"  Taking  a  line  through  you,  may  I  say  that  the 
liking  would  be  mutual?  " 

"  Are  you,  by  any  chance,  thinking  of  visiting  Pata- 
gonia ? " 

"  No,"  he  said. 

For  some  reason,  hard  to  define,  he  was  convinced 
that  Patagonia,  though  reported  barren,  would  prove 
a  rather  unsuitable  place  for  an  anchorite. 

"  Are  you  interested  in  mines  ?  "  she  inquired,  after 
a  pause. 

«  Yes." 

"  What  sort  of  mines,  copper  or  silver?  '* 

"  Neither." 

"  Really,  you  are  most  informing." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said  hurriedly.  "  My  mind 
wandered  for  the  moment.  I  was  thinking  how  extraor- 
dinary it  was  that  a  joiing  lady  should  hit  on  my 
profession  so  promptly." 

"  No  marvel  at  all.    Rocks  fall  mostly  on  miners," 

"  An  excellent  example  of  ratiocinative  reason- 
ing." 

"  Don't  imagine  you  can  crush  me  with  a  word 
weighing  a  ton.  Dad  and  I  practise  them  on  each 
other.  They  keep  our  brains  from  rusting,  a  com- 
mon enough  process  on  a  ranch.  Have  you  ever  lived 
on  one?  " 

He  stirred  uneasily.  Evidently,  Patagonia  shared 
certain  characteristics  with  Colorado.  Those  absurdly 
shrewd  eyes  of  hers  missed  nothing. 

"  Have  I  stuck  another  quill  into  you?  "  she  went 
on.    "  If  so,  it  was  an  involuntary  effort." 

"As  it  happens,  I  do  live — I  mean,  I  have  lived — 


244}  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

on  a  ranch.  I  own  one;  but  it  contains  a  gold 
mine.  So,  you  see,  your  divination  is  almost  un- 
canny." 

"  I  am  still  guessing  why  you  are  coming  to  South 
America.  Don't  tell  me  if  you  prefer  to  make  a  mys- 
tery of  your  intentions." 

"  Will  you  be  vexed  if  I  avail  myself  of  your  offer, 
and  remain  silent?  " 

"Vexed?  I  shall  be  delighted.  It  is  a  positive  joy 
to  meet  a  man  who  had  rather  appear  uncivil  than 
coin  a  polite  fib.  The  most  truthful  of  men  lie  glibly 
to  girls.  They  think  it  is  good  for  us.  Now,  I  regard 
you  as  a  person  who  hates  deceit  in  either  man  or 
woman." 

He  turned  and  stared  at  her  fixedly.  "  May  I  ask 
how  old  you  are?  "  he  said  abruptly. 

"  Nineteen." 

"  You  talk  like  a  woman  of  forty,  and  a  wise  one 
at  that." 

"  I  was  grown-up  at  seven.  At  twelve  I  got  that 
crack  on  the  head  I  told  you  of  last  night,  when  our 
homestead  was  attacked  and  burnt  by  drunken  In- 
dians  " 

"  Are  there  Indians  of  that  sort  in  Patagonia?  "  he 
broke  in. 

"  Fifty-seven  varieties — all  bad.  Some  have  souls, 
I  believe;  others  rank  lower  than  the  beasts.  But 
what  have  I  said  now?"  for  he  had  sprung  upright 
as  if  in  a  great  hurry  to  get  away. 

"  Forgive  me,"  he  muttered.  "  I  have  just  remem- 
bered some  important  letters  I  must  write  before  we 
call  at  San  Diego." 


The  Beginning  of  the  Pilgrimage     245 

"  So,"  she  communed,  when  he  had  vanished  through 
the  companion-hatch,  "  even  Mr.  John  Darien  Power 
can  prevaricate  at  times.  But  he  is  a  nice  man.  I 
wonder  why  some  woman  treated  him  badly.  It  must 
have  been  a  woman.  If  it  were  a  man,  he  wouldn't  have 
run ! " 

The  two  became  firm  friends.  As  the  days  passed, 
and  the  Panama  plodded  south  through  tropic  seas. 
Power  learned  so  many  details  of  the  girl's  life  that 
he  could  have  written  her  biography.  Her  father  was 
an  Englishman,  who  found  a  wife  in  Los  Angeles. 
After  being  swindled  by  a  nitrate  company,  he  had  the 
good  fortune  to  recover  from  the  assets  a  tract  of  land 
in  the  Chubut  Territory  of  Patagonia.  It  contained 
no  nitrate;  but  the  discovery  that  it  would  grow  good 
cattle  came  in  the  nick  of  time  to  save  him  from  ruin. 
His  wife  was  killed  in  the  Indian  raid  which  had  left 
its  disastrous  record  on  his  daughter;  but  Argentine 
troops  had  exterminated  the  Araucanian  tribe  respon- 
sible for  the  outrage,  a  rare  event  in  that  district, 
and  the  ranch  had  prospered.  Each  year  or  eighteen 
months  Marguerite  visited  her  maternal  relatives  in 
Los  Angeles,  and  worked  hard  at  the  university  for  a 
term.  By  that  device,  it  was  evident,  Sinclair  salved 
certain  twinges  of  conscience  for  keeping  her  bright 
intelligence  pent  in  a  Patagonian  ranch.  The  two 
hated  these  breaks  in  their  home  life.  However,  they 
provided  a  middle  way;  so  father  and  daughter  made 
the  best  of  them. 

Although  the  eastern  route,  via  New  York,  was 
quicker,  the  girl  herself  elected  for  the  long  sea  voyage 
down  the  Chile  coast,  and  through  the  Straits  of  Ma- 


246  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

gellan.  She  knew  most  of  the  ships  plying  in  those 
waters,  and  felt  more  at  home  in  them. 

She  was  a  prime  favorite  on  board  the  Pcmama — 
among  the  men ;  her  sharp  tongue  and  amazing  out- 
spokenness did  not  endear  her  to  the  women.  Some 
of  them  resented  her  popularity,  and  tried  to  snub 
her,  and  the  result  was  a  foregone  conclusion.  Quite 
unconsciously,  Power  caused  one  of  these  brief  com- 
bats. A  pretty,  but  vapid,  and  rather  rapid  lady  from 
Iquique  thought  that  a  good-looking  young  man  like 
the  American  was  devoting  far  too  much  time  to  Miss 
Sinclair,  and  resolved  to  detach  him. 

She  failed  lamentably,  and,  in  her  pique,  so  far  for- 
got herself  as  to  inquire  sarcastically  what  magnetic 
influence  the  girl  exerted  that  she  was  able  to  keep 
Power  in  constant  attendance. 

Marguerite  surveyed  her  rival  with  bland  unconcern. 
"  You  are  mistaken,"  she  cried.  "  He  cares  nothing 
for  women's  society," 

The  other  thought  she  saw  an  opening,  and  struck 
viciously.  "  So  it  would  appear,"  she  smirked. 
"  You  are  the  only  woman  on  the  ship  he  has  spoken 
to." 

"Yes.    Odd,  isn't  it?" 

"  Distinctly  so.  Perhaps  he  is  one  of  those  rare 
mortals  who  really  believe  that  beauty  is  only  skin 
deep." 

"  How  consoling  that  great  and  original  thought 
must  be  for  you !  " 

"Forme.?    Why  for  me?" 

"  Because,  like  charity,  beauty  covers  a  multitude  of 


The  Beginning  of  the  Pilgrimage     247 

Someone  overheard  this  passage  at  arms.  The  quip 
held  a  barbed  shaft  which  flew  far,  even  unto  Iquique, 
and  the  Chilean  merchant  regained  lost  ground  when 
he  heard  of  it  by  exclaiming,  "  How  true  I  " 

But,  strive  as  she  might,  and  did,  Marguerite  never 
received  any  confidences  from  Power.  They  talked 
about  many  things;  but  his  past  history  remained  a 
closed  volume.  The  long,  hot  days  succeeded  one  an- 
other with  monotonous  regularity.  When  the  red  cliffs 
of  Valparaiso  appeared  beneath  the  snow-crowned  line 
of  the  Andes,  those  two,  perhaps,  were  the  only  people 
on  the  ship  who  regretted  that  the  voyage  was  at 
an  end. 

"  So  we  part  here,"  said  the  girl,  as  Power  found 
her  waiting  near  the  gangway  to  go  ashore  in  the 
tender. 

"  Yes,"  he  said.  "  When  you  are  older  you  will 
realize  that  life  consists  largely  of  partings." 

"  I  know  that  now,"  she  said.  She  was  wearing  a 
white  double  veil,  which  was  her  habit  when  in  towns, 
80  he  could  not  see  that  she  was  very  pale.  He  was 
aware  of  an  irksome  pause — a  rare  thing  as  between 
Marguerite  Sinclair  and  himself, 

"  You  go  straight  to  your  new  steamer,  I  believe?  " 
he  went  on,  forcing  the  conversation. 

"Yes.    And  you?" 

"  I  drift  into  a  hotel  for  a  couple  of  days." 

"  And  I  cannot  tempt  you  to  visit  my  poor  but 
proud  Patagonia?  " 

"  I  fear  not." 

"  Goodby,  Mr.  Power." 

She  shook  hands  with  him  hurriedly,  and  joined  the 


248  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

crush  of  passengers  in  the  gangway.  She  moved  with 
the  easy  grace  of  one  who  lived  much  in  the  open 
air.  For  the  hundredth  time  she  reminded  him  of 
Nancy.  He  sighed.  At  last  his  seven  years'  pilgrim- 
age had  really  begun! 


CHAPTER  XIV 
THE  WANDER- YEARS 

If  this  record  were  a  story  of  romantic  adventure, 
it  might  well  start  from  the  moment  Power  set  foot 
in  the  hotel  which  a  relative  of  an  eminent  French 
actress  used  to  keep  in  Valparaiso.  He  had  not  been 
in  the  city  many  hours  before  a  brutal  assault  on 
a  woman  led  him  to  intervene.  During  the  resultant 
scuffle  he  was  robbed  of  his  pocketbook,  and,  in  addi- 
tion to  a  narrow  escape  from  being  knifed,  he  was  in- 
formed by  a  supercilious  policeman  that  the  whole 
affair,  including  the  screams  of  a  female  apparently 
in  fear  of  her  life,  had  been  cleverly  engineered 
for  the  express  purpose  of  relieving  him  of  his 
money. 

When  settling  his  affairs  at  Bison  he  had  arranged 
that  the  bulk  of  his  revenues  should  be  lodged  with  his 
New  York  bankers,  to  whom  letters  and  communications 
of  every  sort  were  to  be  sent.  To  provide  against  the 
unforeseen — a  word  of  wide  significance  when  applied 
to  the  vortex  into  which  he  was  plunging — it  was  un- 
derstood that  a  cablegram  in  his  name  would  be  acted 
on  only  if  it  bore  the  code-word  "  Bido,"  a  simple 
composite  of  the  first  syllables  of  Bison  and  Dolores, 
and,  had  it  not  been  for  the  lucky  chance  that  the  bulk 
of  his  available  ready  money,  some  five  thousand  dol- 
lars, was  safe  in  his  room  at  the  hotel,  he  might  have 

249 


250  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

been  compelled  to  reveal  his  whereabouts  to  the  bank 
forthwith. 

Then,  a  Chilean  gentleman,  impressed  by  the  fact 
that  Power  was  an  American,  and  therefore  a  million- 
aire, tried  to  extract  gold  from  him  by  the  safer  and 
really  more  effective  method  of  selling  him  a  guano 
island.  Singularly  enough,  this  second  thief's  per- 
tinacity opened  up  the  narrow  and  hazardous  path  for 
which  Power  was  looking.  The  captain  of  a  small 
steamer  engaged  in  the  guano  trade  went  out  of  his 
way  to  warn  the  American  that  he  was  being  exploited 
by  a  scoundrel.  Such  disinterested  honesty  in  a  Chil- 
ean was  attractive.  Some  talk  followed,  and,  three 
days  after  arriving  in  Valparaiso,  Power  quitted  that 
lively  city  as  a  passenger  on  board  the  Carmen,  bound 
for  islands  in  the  south. 

The  friendly  skipper  had  no  inkling  of  his  new  ac- 
quaintance's intentions.  He  thought  that  the  senor 
was  veritably  a  speculator  in  guano,  who,  all  the  better- 
known  deposits  off  the  coast  of  Peru  being  either  taken 
up  or  exhausted,  was  bent  on  exploiting  fresh  fields  in 
Chile.  This  much  is  certain.  Had  Captain  Malaspina 
realized  that  this  well-spoken  and  pleasant-mannered 
stranger  meant  to  throw  in  his  lot  with  the  savage  race 
which  infests  the  inhospitable  islands  and  rock-strewn 
channels  of  the  wildest  coast  in  the  world,  he  would 
have  regarded  him  as  a  lunatic.  He  could  never  guess 
that  his  own  blood-curdling  yarns  of  these  outcasts 
added  fuel  to  the  fire  of  Power's  strange  enthusiasm. 
He  believed  that  the  Indians  were  cannibals.  He  had 
seen  them  living  and  eating  in  the  interior  of  a  putrid 
whale.    He  had  found  a  five-year-old  boy  lying  on  the 


The  Wander-Years  251 

rocks  with  his  brains  dashed  out,  and  was  told  that 
the  child's  father  had  shown  his  anger  in  that  way  be- 
cause the  victim  dropped  some  edible  seaweed  which  the 
man  had  been  at  some  pains  to  gather.  Mere  words 
could  not  describe  the  brutes.  The  worthy  skipper  al- 
ways spat  when  he  spoke  of  them. 

His  gruesome  stories  beguiled  a  slow  voyage  while 
the  leaky  boilers  of  the  Carmen,  iron  steamship,  of  five 
hundred  tons,  pushed  her  sluggishly  through  the  long 
rollers  of  the  Pacific.  Then  a  heavy  sou'westerly  gale 
sprang  up,  and  the  Carmen  staggered  for  refuge  into 
the  Corcovado  Gulf,  and  thence  plashed  and  wallowed 
through  the  sheltered  Moraleda  Channel.  To  eke  out 
her  scanty  stock  of  coal  she  put  into  the  estuary  of 
the  Aisen  River,  where  Malaspina  bargained  with  In- 
dians for  a  supply  of  wood. 

Power  saw  his  opportunity,  and  seized  it  eagerly. 
He  asked  to  be  put  ashore  for  a  couple  of  days  in 
order  that  he  might  study  the  natives  at  close  quar- 
ters. The  friendly  skipper  was  unwilling,  arguing  that 
a  tribe  of  monkeys  would  better  repay  investigation, 
but  ultimately  yielded  to  pressure.  There  was  really 
no  great  risk,  he  knew,  because  Chilean  gunboats  had 
taught  these  coast  Indians  to  leave  white  men  alone; 
so  Power  was  landed,  his  total  equipment  being  a  small 
medicine  chest,  a  hut,  a  folding  bed,  some  few  stores, 
and  a  shotgun,  with  a  hundred  cartridges,  all  told.  He 
took  more  food  than  such  a  brief  stay  demanded;  but 
the  necessity  of  placating  the  head  men  of  the  village 
supplied  a  plausible  excuse.  A  couple  of  silver  dollars 
proved  an  irresistible  bribe  to  a  Spanish-speaking  In- 
dian who  promised  to  guide  him  into  the  interior,  and 


252  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

a  letter  to  the  amazed  skipper  of  the  Carmen  saved  the 
villagers  from  reprisals. 

**  I  am  sorry  I  was  compelled  to  mislead  you  [he  wrote] ; 
but  I  mean  to  explore  the  Andes  at  this  point,  and  I  prefer 
to  set  out  on  a  crazy  project  without  undergoing  the  pro- 
tests and  dissuasion  I  should  certainly  have  met  with  from 
the  kind  friend  you  have  proved  yourself.  If  all  is  well 
with  you  seven  years  from  this  date,  write  to  me,  care  of 
the  National  Bank,  New  York.     I  will  surely  answer.** 

"  Seven  years !  "  shouted  Malaspina,  shaking  a  huge 
fist  at  the  silent  hills.  "  Seven  devils !  He  is  mad, 
mad !  There  will  be  an  inquiry  by  the  American  consul, 
and  I  shall  be  accused  of  killing  him.  Holy  Virgin! 
What  a  fool  I  was  to  let  him  go  alone !  " 

He  was  minded  to  flog  an  Indian  or  two,  and  thus 
extract  information;  but  calmer  counsels  prevailed. 
After  all,  he  had  a  letter  proving  that  Power  had  left 
the  ship  voluntarily.  At  first  he  resolved  to  report  the 
astounding  incident  on  returning  to  Valparaiso,  and 
discussed  the  matter  volubly  with  Jose,  second  in  com- 
mand. Jose  said,  "  No.  Let  sleeping  dogs  lie.  Those 
foreign  consuls  are  plaguy  fellows.  They  get  many 
a  poor  man  hanged  just  to  please  their  governments." 

Malaspina  had  been  well  paid,  of  course;  so  he  de- 
cided to  hold  his  tongue,  keeping  the  letter,  in  case 

Thus  was  the  trail  lost.    Power  was  buried  alive. 

The  guide  led  him  twenty  miles  up  the  valley  of  the 
Aisen,  and  handed  him  over  to  the  members  of  an- 
other tribe,  describing  him  as  a  harmless  moon-gazer. 
In  a  hovel  lay  an  elderly  Indian,  shivering  with  fever. 
Power   dosed   the   quaking  wretch   with   calomel    and 


The  Wander-Years  253 

quinine,  and  performed  a  miracle.  Thenceforth  his 
life  was  safe ;  as  long  as  the  few  ounces  of  quinine  and 
calomel  lasted,  at  any  rate.  He  had  landed  in  the 
Chile  region  at  the  beginning  of  spring,  and  his  nomad 
hosts  moved  nearer  the  Andes  when  the  weather  im- 
proved, taking  him  with  them.  Their  barbarous 
tongue  included  a  number  of  Spanish  words,  and  by 
slow  degrees  he  learned  their  comparatively  small  but 
curiously  inflected  vocabulary.  Once  he  could  make 
himself  understood,  the  foundations  of  his  mission  were 
laid  securely.  By  sheer  initiative,  having  no  training 
in  such  arts  beyond  the  knowledge  acquired  by  most 
intelligent  men,  he  taught  them  how  to  spin  and  weave 
the  long  hair  of  the  Chilean  goat.  He  established  some 
principles  of  communal  law.  He  showed  them  how  to 
use  nitrate  as  a  fertilizer.  He  experimented  with 
medicinal  herbs  when  his  own  small  store  of  drugs  had 
given  out.  He  got  them  to  build  better  huts,  and  adopt 
some  elementary  principles  of  sanitation.  Tillage  and 
crops  broke  down  the  migratory  habit.  Land  was 
cleared,  and  drained  or  irrigated  as  needed.  For  the 
first  time  in  its  history,  the  tribe  lived  in  permanent 
dwellings.    In  a  word.  Power  established  a  state. 

Within  four  years  he  had  elevated  these  apemen 
and  women  to  a  standard  so  far  above  that  of  their 
neighbors  that  his  fame  spread  into  unknown  fastnesses 
of  the  Cordillera.  Among  his  adopted  people  he  would 
have  been  worshiped  as  a  god  if  he  had  not  sternly 
repressed  any  such  tendencies.  But  he  could  not  stop 
the  growth  of  his  reputation  as  a  magician,  and  a  well- 
planned  raid  by  another  tribe  brought  about  the  slaugh- 
ter of  a  section  of  the  community  and  his  own  capture. 


254i  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

He  was  reduced  now  to  the  direst  misery.  His  cap- 
tors, some  degrees  cruder  and  more  bestial  than  the 
men  he  was  governing,  took  him  by  forced  marches 
across  a  spur  of  the  Andes,  giving  him  food  of  such 
revolting  nature  that  he  became  deadly  ill.  At  last  they 
were  compelled  to  carry  him,  and,  using  such  limited 
reasoning  faculties  as  they  possessed,  allowed  him  to 
save  his  life  by  cooking  and  eating  portions  of  ani- 
mals freshly  killed.  Their  object  in  making  him  a 
prisoner,  he  gathered,  was  to  divert  his  magic  to  their 
own  district  so  that  his  incantations  might  increase 
their  herds.  When  he  failed  to  accomplish  this  laud- 
able purpose  offhand,  they  became  violent,  and  threat- 
ened to  bum  him  alive.  On  the  homeopathic  principle, 
an  abnormally  dry  and  scorching  spring  came  to  his 
rescue.  Some  species  of  noxious  insect,  whose  bite  was 
fatal  to  horses  and  cattle,  multiplied  exceedingly,  and 
the  tribe  lost  half  their  stock.  A  wily  candidate  for 
the  chiefship  spread  the  notion  that  the  white  god 
had  caused  this  misfortune,  and  that  the  person  who 
really  ought  to  be  burnt  alive  was  the  chief  who  coun- 
seled the  raid.  This  was  duly  done,  and  heavy  rain 
fell  that  night,  effectually  disposing  of  the  insect 
pests. 

The  new  chief,  who  would  have  been  an  acquisition 
to  certain  political  circles  in  more  temperate  climes, 
saw  that,  although  he  had  scored  heavily,  the  dangerous 
wonder-worker  might  be  associated  with  evils  yet  to 
come;  so,  on  his  suggestion.  Power  was  taken  through 
the  mountains  by  a  secret  pass,  and  left  on  the  eastern 
slopes  of  the  range  to  fare  as  best  he  might. 

The  Indians  were  afraid  to  gratify  their  instincts 


The  Wander-Years  255 

by  murdering  him  outright ;  but,  seeing  that  he  was  ab- 
solutely unarmed,  and  without  a  scrap  of  food  in  his 
possession,  there  was  no  misunderstanding  the  malevo- 
lent grin  with  which  their  leader  pointed  out  the  path 
he  must  follow.  These  very  aborigines,  despite  their 
animal  lore  concerning  edible  roots,  and  their  readi- 
ness to  dispute  with  vultures  for  a  carrion  meal,  knew 
that  no  man  could  traverse  those  leagues  of  foothills 
without  arms  and  a  commissariat  of  some  kind.  No 
semblance  of  a  track  existed.  Power  and  his  guards 
stood  on  a  scree  of  loose  stones  and  shale  not  far  be- 
low the  snow  line,  and  well  above  the  first  precipitous 
valley  in  which  even  the  hardiest  pines  reached  a  stunted 
growth.  The  steep  hillside  was  covered  with  the  strange 
snow  shapes  known  to  Spanish  South  America  as  peni- 
tentes,  weird  wraiths  like  sheeted  ghosts,  and  more 
than  one  broad  track  torn  through  these  awesome  senti- 
nels showed  where  avalanches  of  rocks  and  ice  had  thun- 
dered down  from  the  heights  that  very  day. 

Power  looked  out  over  the  appalling  vista  of  bar- 
ren hills  and  tree-choked  ravines  which  lay  in  front. 
In  the  direction  shown  by  the  Indian  he  saw  a  slight 
depression  in  an  otherwise  unbroken  ring  of  unscalable 
mountains,  and  it  was  reasonable  to  assume  that  the 
milk-white  glacier  stream  flowing  through  a  canyon  a 
thousand  feet  beneath  must  find  its  way  to  the  sea 
through  that  gap.  It  was  so  long  since  he  had  glanced 
at  a  map  of  South  America  that  he  had  only  the  vaguest 
notion  of  his  whereabouts.  As  a  rough  guess,  beyond 
those  tremendous  highlands  lay  the  plains  of  Lower 
Argentina — the  black,  wind-swept,  semidesert  pampas. 
At  the  lowest  calculation,  he  was  three  hundred  and 


256  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

fifty  miles  from  the  Atlantic,  and  fifty  of  those  miles 
offered  such  difliculties  to  man's  endeavor  that  well- 
equipped  expeditions  had  turned  back  time  and  again 
from  attempts  to  find  new  passes  through  the  Andes 
in  that  region. 

To  try  and  reach  the  eastern  coast  meant  almost 
certain  death;  but  the  scowling  faces  of  the  Indians 
showed  that  the  effort  must  be  made,  unless  he  was 
prepared  to  fall  under  their  weapons  then  and  there. 
The  uncouth  tongue  he  had  acquired  on  the  Trans- 
Andean  slope  was  not  of  much  avail  with  his  present 
custodians ;  but,  when  he  asked  the  leader  of  the  party 
for  a  spear,  he  was  understood. 

By  nothing  less,  in  Power's  view,  than  the  direct  in- 
tervention of  Providence,  the  man  was  minded  to  treat 
the  matter  as  a  joke,  and  handed  over  his  own  spear, 
a  nine-foot  shaft  of  tough  and  limber  hickory,  tipped 
with  a  flat  blade  of  iron  about  eight  inches  in  length 
and  two  in  width  at  its  widest  part.  A  stout  shank  was 
gripped  by  the  split  wood,  and  strongly  bound  in  its 
socket  with  a  thong  of  hide.  Singularly  enough,  these 
savages  had  never  searched  their  prisoner's  pockets. 
Probably,  they  were  afraid  to  touch  him,  lest  he  laid 
some  evil  spell  on  them ;  so  he  was  able  now  to  produce 
a  silver  dollar,  which  he  gave  with  a  smile,  indicating, 
at  the  same  time,  his  willingness  to  purchase  a  couple 
of  strips  of  the  dried  meat  carried  by  some  members 
of  the  escort. 

This  request  was  refused  peremptorily,  and  a  dis- 
tinctly threatening  gesture  warned  Power  that  the  par- 
ley was  at  an  end.  He  turned  resolutely  toward  the 
rising    sun,    and    began    his    lonely    and    affrighting 


TJie  Wander-Years  257 

Odyssey.  He  admitted  afterward  that  he  knew  what 
fear  meant  during  the  first  few  strides  across  the  broken 
ground,  because  he  was  suspicious  lest  the  Indians  might 
have  planned  to  spear  him  from  behind.  Indeed,  some 
such  barbaric  pleasantry  may  have  occurred  to  them. 
A  fierce  clamor  of  talk  broke  out  suddenly ;  but  a  swirl 
of  snow  swept  down  from  a  neighboring  glacier,  and 
even  these  hardy  savages  had  no  desire  to  be  caught 
on  that  dangerous  scree  in  a  snowstorm.  So  the  hubbub 
died  away  as  quickly  as  it  had  arisen. 

Fortunately,  the  snow  did  not  fall  so  thickly  as  to 
be  actually  blinding.  The  hapless  fugitive  could  dis- 
cern his  bearings,  and  he  moved  as  speedily  as  pos- 
sible to  a  point  he  had  already  fixed  on  as  being  out 
of  the  track  of  avalanches.  He  reached  this  landmark, 
a  hump  of  rock,  and  perforce  remained  in  its  shelter 
till  the  weather  cleared.  During  this  vigil  he  heard 
the  dull  roar  and  rumble  of  falling  debris,  and,  when 
the  snow-shower  ceased,  he  saw  that  two  fresh  lanes  had 
been  plowed  through  the  serried  ranks  of  the  peni- 
tentes.  Of  the  Indians  there  was  neither  sight  nor 
sound. 

It  was  then  about  noon  on  a  spring  day.  He  had 
not  troubled  to  keep  any  reckoning  of  the  calendar ;  but 
he  knew  that  the  month  was  late  October  or  early  No- 
vember. So  there  still  remained  six  or  seven  hours  of 
practicable  daylight,  and  he  resolved  to  push  on 
boldly,  and  reach  a  less  perilous  altitude  before  night 
fell. 

He  had  two  vital  problems  to  solve.  The  first  was 
the  food  difficulty;  the  second,  to  find  a  road  where 
road  there  was  none.    The  awful  solitudes  of  the  higher 


258  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

Andes  and  the  dank  forests  which  cumber  the  lateral 
valleys  are  singularly  devoid  of  animal  and  bird  life. 
It  is  a  land  of  decay  and  death.  The  very  hills  dis- 
integrate so  rapidly  that  rivers  which  flow  into  the 
Pacific  in  one  century  may  empty  themselves  into  the 
Atlantic  in  the  next.  The  constant  falling  away  of 
precipices,  and  the  luxuriant  growth  of  trees  and  brush- 
wood amid  a  tangle  of  rotting  timber,  render  con- 
tinuous advance  by  way  of  the  ravines  absolutely  im- 
possible. Hence,  his  only  chance  of  escape  lay  in 
keeping  to  the  highlands,  trusting  to  luck  and  the  lie  of 
the  land  when  an  occasional  crossing  of  a  canyon  be- 
came necessary  in  order  to  avoid  doubling  on  his  tracks 
and  being  driven  back  to  the  white  wilderness  of  the 
inner  chain. 

Happily,  he  was  better  equipped  than  most  men 
for  an  undertaking  which  was  almost  comparable  with 
the  plight  of  an  explorer  lost  in  the  Arctic.  Though 
enfeebled  by  his  recent  illness,  and  already  in  need 
of  a  meal,  four  years  of  exposure  to  hardships  which 
would  have  killed  a  weakling,  and  daily  living  in  the 
open  in  the  worst  of  weather,  had  hardened  his  frame 
and  toughened  his  constitution  to  that  degree  of  forti- 
tude with  which  Greek  historians  loved  to  invest 
Mithridates  Eupator.  Moreover,  he  was  suitably 
clothed  in  skins,  and  his  feet  were  incased  in  moccasins. 
Above  all,  his  was  an  equable  heart.  Death  had  hov- 
ered near  many  a  time  and  oft  during  those  wild  wander- 
years.  He  had  heard  the  very  fluttering  of  its  sable 
pinions  when  he  turned  his  back  on  the  pitiless  Indians ; 
but  he  was  firmly  resolved  not  to  lose  faith  while  he 
could  stan^  square  on  his  feet.     Time  enough  to  lie 


The  Wander-Years  259 

3own  and  die  when  movement  was  no  longer  possible. 
Meanwhile,  he  would  struggle  on. 

Progress,  of  course,  was  slow.  Every  yard  of  the 
way  was  difficult,  every  second  yard  hazardous.  As 
an  alpenstock,  the  spear  was  invaluable.  But  for  its 
aid  he  would  have  slipped  and  fallen  a  dozen  times 
on  that  treacherous  mountainside.  After  a  couple 
of  miles  of  fairly  straight  going,  he  was  faced  by  the 
need  of  crossing  to  another  range.  Choosing  a  line 
which  seemed  practicable,  he  climbed  down  a  broken 
rock  face,  plunged  into  the  medley  of  fallen  logs  which 
cumbered  the  nearer  slope  of  the  intervening  canyon, 
and  ferried  a  torrent  by  the  precarious  bridge  of  a  rot- 
ting pine,  the  only  one,  among  hundreds  which  had 
fallen,  long  enough  to  reach  the  opposite  bank,  and  so 
slender  and  brittle  at  its  apex  that  it  crumbled  beneath 
him  just  as  he  sprang  to  safety  on  a  rock  slippery 
with  spray. 

The  climb  to  the  open  again  was  exhausting  work. 
Once  he  thought  he  was  done  for  when  an  apparently 
sound  log  snapped  suddenly,  and  plunged  him  into  a 
dark  and  fearsome  network  of  dead  wood,  so  swathed 
in  soft  and  noisome  fungus  growths  that  he  seemed  to 
be  unable  to  find  sure  hold  for  either  hand  or  foot. 
Somehow,  he  clambered  into  daylight  again,  and  found 
himself  clinging  to  the  roots  of  a  tree  which  throve 
on  the  tangled  husks  of  its  ancestors.  It  took  him 
three  hours  to  reach  a  height  of  five  hundred  feet, 
at  which  point  the  treacherous  forest  belt  yielded  to 
a  firmer  area  covered  by  alpine  moss. 

Then,  utterly  worn  out,  and  unequal  to  further  effort 
that  day,  he  was  thinking  of  gnawing  some  bulbs  of 


260  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

resin  which  had  exuded  from  the  bigger  firs,  when  he 
caught  sight  of  a  small  armadillo  scuttling  over  the 
rocks.  It  was  the  first  living  creature,  save  for  an 
occasional  vulture,  he  had  seen  since  leaving  the  snow- 
line. The  discovery  brought  a  spurious  energy,  and  he 
dashed  off  in  pursuit.  The  armadillo,  which  was  far 
removed  from  its  natural  habitat — probably  owing  to 
the  drought  in  the  lowlands — ran  very  rapidly,  and 
was  evidently  making  for  a  burrow.  Indeed,  Power 
despaired  of  securing  the  creature  when  it  headed  for 
a  fissure  in  the  ground.  As  a  last  resource,  he  hurled 
the  spear  at  it.  The  weapon  turned  in  the  air,  fell 
vertically,  and  buried  its  broad  blade  in  the  animal's 
neck,  striking  the  only  vulnerable  part  of  its  body,  since 
the  whole  remaining  structure  was  covered  with  a 
strong,  bony  case  of  flexible  plates. 

The  chances  against  any  such  haphazard  casting  of 
a  javelin  proving  successful  were  simply  incalculable; 
but  Power  took  this  piece  of  good  fortune  as  further 
proof  that  he  was  being  befriended  by  Providence. 
Leaving  the  armadillo  where  it  had  fallen,  he  searched 
the  crevices  in  which  it  was  about  to  seek  refuge,  and 
obtained  some  handfuls  of  dry  moss.  Then  he  gath- 
ered a  bundle  of  the  driest  sticks  he  could  find,  and, 
by  using  a  flint  and  steel,  which,  in  his  case,  had  long 
ago  superseded  all  other  means  of  lighting  a  fire,  was 
soon  enjoying  a  meal  the  like  to  which  no  chef  in 
Paris  could  have  prepared  that  night.  True,  there 
were  but  one  course  and  one  sauce;  but  the  joint  was 
eatable,  with  something  of  a  pork  flavor,  and  the  sauce 
was  ravenous  hunger.  Only  the  other  day  he  told  the 
most  famous  of  contemporary  head  waiters  that  roast 


The  Wander-Tears  261 

armadillo  was  vastly  superior  to  sucking  pig,  at  which 
the  eminent  one  smiled,  realizing  that  his  patron  was 
no  gourmet. 

Covering  the  remains  of  the  feast  with  the  creature's 
own  armor,  which,  as  an  extra  precaution  against  vul- 
tures, he  weighted  down  with  stones,  Power  arranged 
a  bed  of  moss  under  an  overhanging  rock,  and  lay  down 
to  sleep.  A  wild  storm  of  wind  and  rain  raged  during 
the  night;  but  he  was  merely  awaked  for  a  minute  or 
two  by  the  unusual  clamor,  and  slept  soundly  again, 
despite  the  fury  of  the  elements.  At  dawn  he  was 
astir,  and,  after  eating  a  few  mouthfuls,  tied  the  rest 
of  the  small  joints  to  the  spear  by  their  own  sinews, 
and  began  his  march  again. 

As  the  armadillo  supplied  the  only  food  he  secured, 
or  could  have  secured,  during  six  days  of  a  most  ardu- 
ous and  nerve-racking  advance  through  a  country  which 
offered  every  sort  of  obstacle  to  the  explorer,  it  is  not 
to  be  wondered  at  if  Power  came  to  believe  that  he 
would  yet  emerge  in  safety  from  the  perils  confronting 
him.  But  his  rate  of  movement  was  exasperatingly 
slow.  On  one  day  of  the  six  he  only  succeeded  in  cross- 
ing one  particularly  troublesome  ravine.  On  another, 
after  skirting  a  mountain  slope  which  positively  bris- 
tled with  dangers,  he  found  himself  on  a  receding 'angle, 
and  was  compelled  to  retrace  his  steps;  although, 
a  dozen  times  already,  he  had  been  called  on  to  exer- 
cise every  ounce  of  strength,  every  shred  of  resolution, 
in  order  to  cross  appallingly  difficult  places  which  he 
must  now  tackle  again. 

Still,  he  kept  on,  and  that  gap  in  the  hills  grew 
ever  wider  and  more  distinct.    He  was  gnawing  the  last 


262  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

bone  of  the  armadillo,  and  asking  himself  how  much 
longer  it  would  be  possible  to  maintain  an  unequal 
struggle  against  the  grim  forces  which  sought  to  crush 
him,  when  he  had  a  stroke  of  luck.  The  Andes  would 
be  even  more  impregnable  than  they  are  were  it  not 
for  an  unusual  geological  formation  which  provides 
broad  and  often  practicable  rock  ledges  along  the  walls 
of  the  worst  precipices.  Farther  north,  in  Peru,  and, 
to  a  less  extent,  in  Chile,  these  roadways  of  Nature's 
own  contriving  are  much  utilized  by  mountaineers  and 
their  mules.  When  Power  stumbled  across  one  of  them 
after  getting  out  of  a  specially  steep  and  timber- 
clogged  ravine,  he  really  did  believe  that  his  troubles 
were  lessening.  He  fancied  he  could  discern  faint  signs 
of  others  having  passed  that  way,  and  he  jumped  to 
the  conclusion  that  those  most  unfriendly  Indians  knew 
of  this  track,  and  could  have  piloted  him  to  it  in  a 
quarter  of  the  time  he  had  consumed.  Obviously,  it  led 
in  the  right  direction.  After  climbing  to  a  dizzy  height, 
it  dipped  again  into  the  next  valley,  and,  despite  a 
hazardous  crossing  of  a  mountain  torrent,  with  com- 
plications caused  by  a  recent  landslide,  he  discerned 
another  similar  ledge  on  the  opposite  hill,  and  valiantly 
made  for  it. 

There  could  be  no  doubting  now  that  he  was  enter- 
ing a  more  open  country.  The  pass  had  broadened 
into  a  valley,  and  a  flat  blue  smear  on  the  horizon  told 
of  earth  and  sky  meeting  beyond  a  plain.  The  sight 
spurred  him  to  a  frenzy  of  hope  and  effort.  He  pressed 
on  at  far  too  rapid  a  pace,  and,  when  hunger  gripped 
him  once  more,  he  strove  to  sate  its  pangs  by  munch- 
ing some  dried  berries,  remnants  of  last  year's  autumn, 


The  Wander-Years  263 

which  he  gathered  from  a  deciduous  tree.  He  fancied, 
judging  by  the  taste,  that  they  were  not  poisonous ;  but, 
perhaps  owing  to  his  famished  condition,  they  seemed 
to  induce  a  curious  excitation  of  mind,  accompanied  by 
dilated  vision,  which  rendered  colors  entrancingly 
bright  and  clear.  In  the  valley  opening  out  before 
the  descending  ledge  he  imagined  he  could  see  patches 
of  pink  blossom  which  reminded  him  of  the  apple  or- 
chards of  Colorado.  He  laughed  aloud  at  the  fantasy ; 
nevertheless,  he  tore  on  in  desperate  haste  to  get  into 
that  attractive  zone,  where,  surely,  there  must  be  ani- 
mal life,  and,  with  it,  the  prospect  of  a  meal.  Over- 
joyed, he  sang  as  he  went,  rousing  strange  echoes.  He, 
who  had  dwelt  among  the  heathen  like  another  Xavier, 
poured  out  his  soul  in  the  lilt  and  rhythm  of  "  March- 
ing Through  Georgia  " !  That  stirring  refrain  had  led 
many  a  gallant  heart  to  the  "  crash  of  the  cannonade 
and  the  desperate  strife  " ;  but  never,  surely,  has  it  been 
heard  amid  such  surroundings.  Cliff  spoke  to  cliff. 
Primeval  nature  was  stirred,  and  answered  his  voice 
in  rude  harmonies : 

"Hurrah!     Hurrah!    We  bring  the  jubilee! 
Hurrah !    Hurrah !    The  flag  that  makes  you  free ! 
So  we  sang  the  chorus  from  Atlanta  to  the  sea. 
While  we  were  marching  through  Georgia.** 

With  a  rush  of  wings  and  frantic  clamor  of  screams, 
a  flock  of  upland  geese  (Chloephaga  magellanica)  rose 
from  some  hidden  marsh  beneath,  and  fled  in  ordered 
phalanx  to  some  distant  sanctuary;  whereupon  Power 
yelled  that  ecstatic  "  Hurrah  1 "  anew.    Here  was  life ! 


264  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

Here  was  a  world  that  smiled  and  was  not  dumb !  He 
must  hurry,  hurry,  and  enter  into  this  Paradise ! 

Yet  it  came  to  pass,  as  so  often  happens  in  the 
most  commonplace  phases  of  man's  life,  that,  at  the 
very  moment  when  the  worst  stage  of  the  journey  was 
nearing  its  end,  when  he  had  accomplished  the  al- 
most impossible,  when  the  leaping  torrents  of  the  hills 
were  merging  into  a  stream  which,  if  turbid  and  noisy, 
bore  some  semblance  to  a  river,  he  met  with  a  disaster 
that  brought  death  even  nearer  than  it  had  come  at 
any  other  crisis  of  his  extraordinary  career. 

The  track,  rough  as  it  was,  offered  comparatively 
easy  going.  Now  winding  round  the  inner  curve  of 
some  huge  fold  in  the  hill,  soon  it  would  swing  boldly 
out  across  the  face  of  a  promontory  of  rock;  while 
passing  one  of  these  awesome  precipices,  which  actu- 
ally jutted  out  so  far  beyond  its  own  base  that  Power 
could  not  see  the  river,  though  he  could  hear  its 
mighty  voice  roaring  among  bowlders,  he  fell.  That  is 
to  say,  the  broad  ledge  sank  away  beneath  his  feet, 
and,  after  a  vain  spring  toward  a  section  which  still 
gripped  the  rocky  wall,  he  fell  with  it. 

He  uttered  no  cry,  made  no  plaint  to  Heaven.  His 
brain  worked  with  inconceivable  rapidity,  and  he  knew 
that  he  had  been  flung  from  a  sheer  height  of  well  over 
a  hundred  feet.  Thus,  unless  he  dropped  into  deep 
water,  and  managed  to  retain  his  senses,  either  out- 
come of  the  accident  being  wildly  improbable,  he  must 
be  crushed  into  a  pulp  when  he  came  to  earth.  He 
petitioned  the  Most  High  that,  if  this  was  death,  it 
might  be  instantaneous,  that  his  soul  might  go  out  of 
its  worn  tabernacle  in  merciful  oblivion,  that  he  might 


The  Wander-Years  265 

not  be  called  on  to  lie,  maimed  and  inert,  watching 
the  gathering  of  vultures.  Then  some  mighty  hand 
seemed  to  seize  him  in  an  irresistible  grip,  and  he  lost 
consciousness. 

When  his  senses  returned,  he  found  himself  staring 
blankly  at  a  blue  sky,  a  sky  that  shone  gloriously 
through  a  fairy  lacework  of  branches  of  trees  laden 
with  apple  blossom ;  while  a  sweet  and  subtle  scent  was 
pungent  in  his  nostrils,  and  undoubtedly  gave  rise 
to  the  quaint  notion  which  instantly  possessed  him, 
that  he  was  already  dead,  and  translated  to  a  land 
of  everlasting  spring.  Then  he  knew  that  he  was  still 
clothed  in  skins,  that  his  bones  ached,  that  he  was  hun- 
gry and  athirst;  so  this  could  be  neither  death  nor 
immortality.  Suddenly,  a  savage  face  bent  over  him, 
his  head  was  lifted,  and  he  was  given  some  liquid.  It 
tasted  like  cider,  and  he  drank  copiously.  Then  his 
brain  reeled;  for  he  was  in  no  fit  condition  to  with- 
stand a  draft  of  singular  potency,  and  again  the  mists 
came,  and  he  lapsed  into  the  void. 

He  did  not  recover  full  consciousness  that  day.  The 
Indians,  who  had  heard  and  been  amazed  at  his  sing- 
ing, saw  him  drop  from  the  precipice,  and  ran  to  its 
base,  expecting  to  find  a  mangl-ed  corpse.  But  a  tall 
and  slender  pine  had  thrust  its  straight  shaft  into  the 
stout  skin  coat  he  wore,  and  had  bent  until  it  yielded 
to  the  strain,  and  broke.  Thus,  he  fell  with  enough 
force  to  knock  the  wits  out  of  him;  but  the  major  ca- 
tastrophe was  averted,  and  the  Indians  were  awed  by 
an  incident  which  no  patriarch  of  the  tribe  had  wit- 
nessed before,  nor  would  ever  see  again  if  he  attained 
the  age  of  Methuselah.     The  spear,  which  had  left 


266  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

Power's  hand  when  he  was  in  the  air,  had  buried  its 
eight  inches  of  blade  in  a  fallen  treetrunk,  and  had  to 
be  hewed  out  with  an  ax. 

These  things  the  white  necromancer  learned  after- 
ward. He  found  also  that  his  vision  of  apple  blos- 
som was  no  dream,  but  reality.  Three  centuries  ago 
Jesuit  missionaries  had  crossed  the  Andes  by  that  very 
pass.  They  brought,  as  peace  offerings  to  the  Indians, 
some  of  the  fruit-trees  and  cereals  of  more  favored 
climes ;  but  they  were  murdered  without  parley.  Curi- 
osity, perhaps,  led  the  savages  to  plant  the  trees  and 
seeds ;  the  apples  alone,  finding  a  congenial  soil,  throve 
marvelously.  All  that  region  abounds  in  sweet,  wild 
apples,  from  which  the  Indians  concoct  a  fermented 
liquor  which  they  call  chi-chi.  Those  same  apples,  and 
the  orgies  of  drunkenness  to  which  they  give  rise,  prob- 
ably account  for  the  legend  of  a  great  city  existing 
within  the  untrodden  depths  of  the  Cordillera.  But 
there  is  no  city — no  trace  of  civilization  save  the 
apples,  a  kindly  memento  of  the  unfortunate 
Jesuits. 

And  now  Power  began  his  regenerative  work  anew. 

Thanks  to  the  phenomenal  style  of  his  coming  among 
them,  the  savages  spared  his  life;  but  their  possession 
of  an  almost  unlimited  stock  of  chirchi,  and  the  trucu- 
lent mood  which  strong  drink  induces,  even  in  Indians, 
led  them,  at  first,  to  treat  him  as  a  Kok6-huinch^,  or 
"white  fool."  Though  their  hunting-grounds  were 
hundreds  of  miles  from  the  coast,  and  singularly  re- 
mote from  the  influence  of  white  settlers,  they  were 
aflame  with  vague  resentment  against  the  invaders,  and 


The  Wander-Years  267 

gladly  made  one  of  the  hated  race  the  butt  of  their 
malevolent  humor. 

So  Power,  in  self-defense,  took  to  artifice.  He  dis- 
covered that  they  possessed  two  kegs  of  gunpowder, 
but  owned  no  guns.  He  learned,  too,  that  once  there 
had  been  three  kegs,  but  a  careless  experiment  with  one 
had  removed  a  chief  and  his  family.  With  some  diffi- 
culty, and  only  by  tickling  their  imagination  by  prom- 
ising an  exhibition  of  magic,  he  obtained  some  of  the 
powder,  and,  on  a  dark  night,  electrified  the  community 
by  a  display  of  fireworks.  Catharine  wheels  and  Ro- 
man candles  achieved  wonders  among  the  foothills  of 
the  Andes.  From  that  instant  his  supremacy  was  es- 
tablished, A  squib  or  two  enforced  edicts ;  a  rocket  set 
a  constitution  squarely  on  its  feet.  In  less  than  three 
years  he  had  become  the  Indians'  trusted  guide  and 
teacher.  The  day  came  when  the  store  of  powder  was 
almost  gone ;  yet  he  was  strong  enough  to  prohibit  the 
manufacture  of  that  season's  supply  of  chi-chi. 

But  there  was  one  thing  he  could  not  do.  He  could 
not  calm  these  wild  people's  frenzy  when  a  hunting 
party  came  in  hot  haste  from  the  plains  and  announced 
that  a  cavalcade  of  white  men  was  forcing  a  passage 
along  the  river,  being  evidently  bent  on  penetrating 
the  valley  of  the  apple-trees. 

Power  was  asked  to  repel  this  invasion  by  black 
art ;  failing  which,  the  Araucanians  decided  to  massacre 
the  explorers  in  a  neighboring  canyon.  He  had  not  the 
least  doubt  as  to  the  success  of  the  scheme.  He  knew 
the  natural  difficulties  of  the  place.  The  upper  end 
could  be  barricaded,  the  lower  blocked  by  spearmen 
hidden   in   the   dense   vegetation,   and   every   intruder 


268  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

caught  m  the  trap  would  be  battered  to  death  by  boul- 
ders flung  from  the  crests  of  opposing  precipices. 

Very  reluctantly  the  Indians  allowed  him  to  act  as 
their  ambassador.  By  sheer  force  of  will  he  bore  down 
opposition,  and  was  taken  to  a  point  whence  the  smoke 
of  campfires  was  visible  above  the  trees.  It  was  hard 
to  say  whether  the  faith  his  friends  placed  in  him  was 
stronger  than  their  fear  and  loathing  of  the  white 
strangers;  but  he  exacted  a  promise  that,  if  he  per- 
suaded the  members  of  the  expedition  to  retreat,  they 
would  not  be  molested.  Oddly  enough,  neither  he  nor 
the  Indians  gave  a  thought  to  any  other  possible  de- 
velopment. These  savages  believed  that  the  white  god 
who  had  dropped  upon  them  from  the  skies  would  never 
leave  them,  and  Power  himself  had  almost  forgotten  the 
existence  of  the  outer  world.  Most  certainly,  he  paid 
no  heed  to  the  fact  that  his  seven  years  of  expiation 
were  nearly  sped.  He  was  happy  among  these  simple 
people.  In  his  way,  he  was  a  king,  and  the  habit  of 
ruling  had  become  second  nature. 

By  chance,  that  day  he  carried  the  spear  which  had 
been  his  faithful  ally  in  crossing  the  Andes,  and  a  weird 
and  barbarous  figure  he  must  have  presented  when  he 
walked  into  an  almost  unguarded  camp  which  had  been 
set  up  for  a  few  hours  on  the  right  bank  of  the  river. 
Clothed  in  skins,  his  face  bronzed  to  a  deep  brown  by 
constant  exposure  to  the  elements,  his  hair  falling  over 
his  shoulders,  and  a  long  beard  sweeping  to  his  breast, 
he  looked  a  veritable  wild  man  of  the  woods. 

A  halfbreed  peon  who  was  the  first  to  see  him 
whipped  out  a  revolver,  and  shouted  a  warning;  but 
Power  held  his  spear  crosswise  above  his  head,  show- 


The  Wander-Years  269 

ing,  by  this  Indian  sign,  that  he  came  in  peace,  and  he 
was  permitted  to  approach. 

"Where  is  your  leader?  "  he  asked  in  Spanish. 

The  peon  seemed  to  be  vastly  astonished;  but  he 
turned  to  a  tall,  thin,  elderly  man  who  had  dived  out 
of  a  tent  at  his  cry,  and  now  strode  forward. 

"  Where  have  you  come  from  ?  "  he  said ;  but  his 
speech  betrayed  him,  and  Power  added  to  the  sensation 
he  had  already  caused  by  saying: 

"  You  are  no  Spaniard,  at  any  rate." 

"  Good  Lord !  "  cried  the  other.  "  It's  an  English- 
man!" 

"  Next  thing  to  it,  an  American,"  said  Power, 

"  What  is  your  name,  and  how  do  you  happen  to 
be  in  this  outlandish  place? "  was  the  bewildered 
demand. 

"  I  am  here  to  explain  all  that,  and  more.  Are  you 
the  head  of  this  expedition?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Well,  what  about  discussing  matters  in  that  tent  of 
yours  ? " 

"  Come  right  along,"  said  the  stranger,  leading  the 
way. 


CHAPTER  XV 
THE  NEW  LIFE 

Nearly  seven  years  had  elapsed  since  Power  had 
either  seen  a  man  of  his  own  race,  or  heard  civilized 
speech.  During  all  that  time,  save  when  he  spoke  aloud 
in  self-communing,  or  hummed  the  half-remembered 
words  of  a  song,  he  had  neither  uttered,  nor  read,  nor 
written  a  word  of  English.  One  literary  treasure,  in- 
deed, had  come  his  way,  and  he  made  good  use  of  it. 

Some  men  of  the  tribe,  digging  one  day  for  truflBes, 
broke  into  a  cave,  in  which  there  was  a  skeleton. 
Among  the  bones,  wrapped  in  soft  leather  and  parch- 
ment, the  Indians  found  a  book,  which  they  brought 
to  their  white  leader.  It  was  an  illuminated  Book  of 
Hours,  or  "  Horae  Beatae  Mariae  Virginis,"  written  in 
Latin  and  Spanish,  and,  as  Power  ascertained  subse- 
quently, the  work  of  an  Italian  of  the  fifteenth  century. 
No  more  beautiful  example  of  the  exquisite  classical 
Renaissance  period  could  be  produced  by  the  Vatican 
library.  The  character  in  the  figures  and  natural- 
ness in  the  landscapes  bespoke  a  ripe  art,  and  many 
of  the  vellum  pages  were  bordered  by  the  solid  frame 
which  gives  full  scope  to  the  artist's  fancy  by  its  fa- 
cilities for  the  introduction  of  medallions,  vignettes, 
twisted  Lombardic  vines,  cupids,  fawns,  colored  gems, 
and  birds  of  brilliant  plumage.  Veritably,  this 
"  Horae "  was  mure  precious   than  if  its  leaves  were 

270 


The  New  Life  271 

of  solid  gold ;  Its  value  to  Power  in  those  lonely  hours 
was  of  a  spring  in  the  desert  to  a  parched  traveler. 

Despite  such  an  invaluable  stimulus  to  his  mind,  how- 
ever, it  was  almost  with  difficulty,  and  certainly  with 
marked  hesitancy,  that  he  was  able  now  to  arrange  the 
words  of  a  sentence  in  their  ordered  sequence,  and  often 
he  found  his  tongue  involuntarily  lending  an  Indian 
twist  to  idiomatic  expressions.  But  his  labored  ut- 
terance was  either  not  so  marked  as  he  imagined,  or 
his  host  was  so  surprised  at  meeting  a  white  man  so 
far  from  civilization  that  he  could  not  repress  his 
own  excitement.  At  the  outset,  too,  the  instinct  of 
hospitality  helped  to  relieve  the  tension. 

"  Can  I  offer  you  anything  in  the  way  of  refresh- 
ment— some  whisky,  or  tea,  or  a  cigar.''  "  came  the  cour- 
teous inquiry. 

"  A  cigar,  by  all  means.  I  have  not  smoked  one  for 
so  long  a  time  that  I  have  forgotten  what  it  is  like." 

"  It  is  pretty  evident  you  have  been  living  among 
the  Indians,"  said  the  other,  passing  him  a  cigar-case. 
"  How  in  the  world  did  you  contrive  to  get  lost  in 
these  parts?  You  did  not  come  through  Patagonia,  I 
fancy?" 

Power  took  thought  before  answering.  Some  half- 
atrophied  emotion  stirred  within  him. 

"Patagonia?  Is  this  country  Patagonia^"  he  said 
at  last. 

"  Yes.    Do  you  mean  to  say  you  don't  know  that?  " 

"  I  had  a  notion  that  it  was  the  Argentine.  My  In- 
dian friends  invariably  speak  of  the  white  inhabitants 
as  Argentinos." 

"  But  how  did  you  get  here?  " 


272  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

"  By  crossing  the  Andes." 

"With  a  party?" 

«  No,  alone." 

His  questioner  whistled.  "  By  Jove ! "  he  cried,  "  you 
had  your  nerve  with  you." 

"  I  couldn't  help  myself.  I  was  a  prisoner  in  the 
hands  of  a  Trans-Andean  tribe,  and  they  turned  me 
adrift.     I  had  to  win  through  somehow,  or  die." 

"  What's  your  name,  anyhow .?  " 

"  John  Darien  Power." 

"  Mine's  Sinclair — George  Sinclair.  Well,  Mr. 
Power,  this  is  a  fortunate  meeting  for  both  of  us.  You 
could  never  have  reached  the  coast  if  you  had  not  fallen 
in  with  just  such  an  outfit  as  mine,  because  there  are 
the  devil's  own  breeds  of  Indians  prowling  about  the 
last  hundred  and  fifty  miles  of  this  river.  Luckily, 
they  dare  not  attack  forty  well-armed  men;  but,  if 
looks  count,  they  are  willing  for  the  job  should  an 
opportunity  offer.  We  simply  couldn't  secure  a  guide ; 
so  decided  to  follow  the  river  all  the  way,  especially  as 
it  made  transport  fairly  easy,  except  at  the  rapids. 
Now  you,  on  the  other  hand,  can  tell  us  just  what  we 
want  to  know.  Is  the  stream  practicable  much  farther? 
What  sort  of  country  lies  between  this  point  and  the 
snow-line  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  can  tell  you  those  things,  and  a  good  deal 
more.  What  is  the  object  of  your  expedition? 
Gold?" 

Sinclair  laughed  rather  constrainedly.  "  I  suppose 
that  is  the  bedrock  of  the  proposition,"  he  said.  "A 
bit  of  science,  a  bit  of  prospecting,  a  last  glimpse  at  a 
country  which  is  not  marked  on  any  map  before  I  leave 


The  New  Life  273 

Patagonia  for  good — there  you  have  the  scheme  in  a 
nutshell." 

"  Are  you  willing  to  turn  back  now?  '* 

"  No.  Why  should  we  ?  We  have  come  close  on 
three  hundred  miles ;  another  fifty,  or  less,  should  see 
us  close  to  the  frontier  of  Chile." 

"  But  you  may  sacrifice  your  lives." 

"  No  Indians  can  stop  us — let  me  assure  you  of  that, 
straight  away." 

"  Won't  you  let  me  mark  your  maps  ?  I  can  supply 
every  detail  with  sufficient  accuracy." 

"  Allow  me  to  suggest  that  I  am  a  business  man,  Mr. 
Power,  and  I  mean  this  expedition  to  pay  its  way." 

"Ah!  It  is  gold  you  really  have  in  mind,  then? 
But  there  is  no  gold." 

"  Now  you  are  talking  nonsense.    We  have  found  it." 

"  You  have  found  alluvial  gold.  There  are  few  fast- 
running  streams  in  the  world  which  do  not  contain 
gold  in  that  form.  The  denudation  of  the  Andes  is  so 
extraordinarily  rapid  that  it  would  be  a  singular  fact 
if  this  river  did  not  yield  float  gold.  But  the  metal 
is  not,  and  cannot  be,  present  in  paying  quantities. 
The  primary  sources  of  gold  are  reefs,  either  in  quartz 
or  in  metalliferous  veins  of  galena  and  the  various 
pyrites.  There  are  none  of  these  in  the  lower  Andean 
range,  which  is  composed  almost  exclusively  of  crystal- 
line schist  with  a  slight  blend  of  basalt.  I  am  a  min- 
ing engineer,  Mr.  Sinclair,  and  I  know  what  I  am  talking 
about.  If  you  could  put  the  entire  southern  Cordil- 
lera through  a  mill,  you  would  not  secure  a  pennyweight 
of  gold  to  the  ton." 

Sinclair,  of  course,  could  not  appreciate  the  remark- 


274  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

able  way  in  which  Power's  tongue  loosened  in  dealing 
with  the  familiar  jargon  of  his  profession.  For  the 
time  he  was  far  more  concerned  with  what  he  deemed 
a  real  marvel. 

"  A  mining  engineer,  and  your  name  is  Power ! 
Surely  you  can't  be  the  Mr.  Power  who  sailed  from 
San  Francisco  to  Valparaiso  on  the  Panama  seven  years 
ago  ?  "  he  cried. 

"  I  am." 

**  But,  excuse  me,  there  must  be  some  mistake.  My 
daughter.  Marguerite  Sinclair,  who  was  on  board  that 
vessel,  spoke  of  a  Mr.  Power ;  but  he  was  a  young  man. 
Of  course,  time  does  not  stand  still  for  any  of  us ;  but 
this  Mr.  Power  would  now  be  thirty-five,  or  there- 
abouts." 

"  That  is  my  age." 

"  Thirty-five?  " 

"  Yes." 

Sinclair  bent  forward  and  peered  Into  his  visitor's 
eyes ;  it  was  difficult  to  detect  any  play  of  expression 
in  the  bearded  face.  "  Are  you  really  the  man  my 
daughter  met  on  that  steamer?  "  he  asked,  and  there 
was  a  note  of  solemnity,  almost  of  awe,  in  his  voice. 
This  anchorite  seemed  nearer   sixty  than  thirty-five. 

"  Yes,  I  remember  her  perfectly — a  charming  girl. 
She  had  suff^ered  some  injury  to  her  face  during  an 
attack  by  Indians  on  her  father's  ranch.  Of  course, 
you  are  her  father?  " 

"  Yes.  But,  tell  me,  Mr.  !Kower — have  you  any  no- 
tion of  the  extraordinary  appearance  you  present? 
You  force  me  to  be  blunt.  You  look  like  a  man  nearly 
twice  your  age." 


The  New  Life  275 

"  Lend  me  a  scissors  and  a  razor,  and  I  shall  remove 
a  decade  or  two.  Remember,  I  have  lived  as  an  Indian 
for  seven  years." 

"  I'll  do  more  than  that.  I  can  give  you  some  clothes 
and  boots.  God  bless  my  soul !  how  surprised  Meg  will 
be!  I  recollect  now  she  told  me  that  her  Mr.  Power 
walked  with  a  limp.  But  it's  a  far  cry  to  Carmen. 
I " 

"  Carmen,  did  you  say.**  " 

"Yes,  why?" 

Power  had  suddenly  recalled  the  name  of  the  stuffy 
little  tramp  on  which  he  set  forth  from  Valparaiso. 
What  memories  crowded  in  on  him,  what  a  record  of 
suffering  and  achievement!  Seven  years!  He  knew 
now  that  his  pilgrimage  was  ended.  The  great  world 
had  thrown  wide  its  gates  again.  He  could  go  back 
to  his  own  country,  his  own  people.  His  sacrifice  had 
been  accepted.  He  was  assoilized.  He  thought  of  his 
mother,  of  Nancy,  and  tears  glistened  in  his  eyes. 
He  believed  that  some  lesion  had  been  lifted  off  his  brain. 
He  looked  at  the  great  facts  of  existence  with  a  new 
and  saner  vision.  He  almost  heard  a  vibrant  and  ma- 
jestic voice  saying  to  his  spirit,  "  Go,  and  sin  no  more! 
Thy  faith  hath  made  thee  whole !  " 

He  rose,  and  was  dimly  aware  that  Sinclair  was 
pressing  him  to  stay.  There  was  so  much  to  discuss 
yet,  so  many  vital  matters  to  weigh  and  debate;  but 
he  managed  to  explain  that  he  must  depart  now,  and 
would  return  later. 

"  You  don't  understand  that  you  are  here  on  suf- 
ferance," he  said.  "  I  had  to  stretch  my  domination 
to  the  utmost — and  I  am  a  king  among  these  Indians 


276  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

— to  stop  them  from  attacking  you.  Your  life,  and 
the  lives  of  every  man  in  your  party,  are  not  worth 
a  day's  purchase  if  my  influence  is  weakened.  I  can- 
not tell  what  evil  counsel  may  be  given  to  these  wild 
folk  in  my  absence.  If  I  show  myself,  and  assure  them 
that  I  am  safe,  and  that  you  mean  to  retreat  almost 
at  once,  they  will  be  satisfied,  and  bloodshed  will  be 
averted." 

Sinclair  glanced  at  him  curiously,  but  did  not  seek 
further  to  prevent  his  immediate  departure. 

"  You  must  act  as  you  think  best,  Mr.  Power,"  he 
said  amicably ;  "  but  I  certainly  cannot  promise  to  re- 
treat merely  because  a  few  wretched  Indians  bar  the 
path." 

"  I  will  convince  you,  never  fear,"  came  the  prompt 
assurance. 

"  But  I  am  not  the  only  skeptic.  There  are  others 
to  consult.  I  have  two  partners  in  this  enterprise,  and 
one  of  them  is  a  mining  expert." 

"  Leave  everything  to  me,  and  make  no  forward  move 
till  I  come  back.  You  can  expect  me  in  a  couple  of 
hours." 

He  could  say  no  more.  He  was  choking.  It  was  a 
mere  pretense  that  he  must  conciliate  the  Indians,  who, 
he  knew,  were  watching  every  move  in  the  camp  with 
the  eyes  of  eagles.  What  he  really  feared,  in  that  mo- 
ment of  revulsion  and  self-enlightenment,  was  that  he 
might  break  down  and  cry  like  a  child. 

He  strode  away,  aflame  with  the  fire  of  longing  for 
communion  with  his  fellow-men.  The  tumult  of  emo- 
tion evoked  by  contact  with  the  expedition  startled 
and  dismayed  him;  but  he  had  not  gone  two  hundred 


The  New  Life  277 

yards  up  the  valley  before  a  sibilant  hiss  restored  his 
scattered  wits.  He  was  passing  an  Indian  outpost, 
and  the  faithful  creatures  were  warning  him  of  their 
presence.  He  signed  that  he  was  going  to  the  village, 
and  passed  on.  He  had  seen  no  one.  Not  a  leaf  moved 
among  the  trees ;  but  the  watchers  were  there,  and  would 
remain. 

Much  against  the  grain,  though  there  was  no  help 
for  it,  he  pacified  the  head  men  of  the  tribe  by  the  state- 
ment that  he  must  remain  in  the  encampment  that  night ; 
indeed,  he  did  not  purpose  leaving  the  invaders  until 
they  had  turned  on  their  tracks.  He  dared  not  risk 
telling  his  "  subjects  "  that  he  meant  to  abandon  his 
empire.  Their  fierce  passions  were  easily  aroused,  and 
a  prompt  massacre  of  Sinclair  and  his  followers  would 
be  the  certain  result  of  a  fanatical  outbreak.  Entering 
his  hut,  he  picked  up  the  "  Horae."  As  he  did  so,  a 
wave  of  sentiment  shook  him,  because  he  thought  of  the 
poor  Spanish  priest  who  had  brought  that  precious 
volume  from  Cadiz  or  Barcelona,  and,  perchance,  gazed 
at  it  with  eyes  glazing  in  death  while  he  lurked, 
wounded  and  starving,  in  the  cave  where  he  had  sought 
shelter  from  the  pitiless  savages.  Now,  if  God  willed, 
it  might  cross  the  Atlantic  again. 

He  opened  the  book  haphazard,  and  read : 

**  In  manus  tuas,  Domine,  cow/mendo  spiritum 
meum  !  ** 

Then  he  sank  on  his  knees,  and  prayed ;  for,  if  ever 
man  had  placed  soul  and  body  in  the  keeping  of  the 
Almighty,  he  had. 

That  evening,  master  of  himself,  and  ever  recovering 
facility  of  speech,  he  reasoned  with  Sinclair  and  the 


278  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

two  Spaniards  who  had  joined  In  the  adventure.  One, 
a  Senor  Felice  Gomez,  though  posing  as  an  authority 
on  mines,  had  to  admit  that  his  knowledge  was  that  of 
the  company  director  and  well-informed  amateur.  They 
were  inclined  to  scoff  at  Power's  predictions  of  disas- 
ter; but  he  wound  up  with  an  argument  which  proved 
irresistible. 

"How  much  has  this  enterprise  cost  you?"  he 
asked. 

Sinclair  answered  readily. 

"  We  have  put  up  twenty  thousand  paper  dollars  * 
for  expenses,"  he  said.  "  My  share  is  ten  thousand, 
and  my  friends  stand  in  five  thousand  each." 

"  Would  you  be  satisfied  if  you  got  your  money 
back,  with  a  profit  of  one  hundred  per  cent?  " 

"  According  to  you,  Mr.  Power,  and  almost  you  con- 
vince me,  we  shall  lose  every  penny." 

"  But,  assuming  the  profit  I  have  named,  would 
such  return  on  your  capital  send  you  home  well 
content?  " 

"  Speaking  for  myself,  it  would." 

The  Spaniards  grinned  amiably.  As  a  conceit,  the 
notion  appealed  to  them.  They  were  not  poor  men; 
but  had  embarked  on  the  quest  largely  to  sate  their 
curiosity  with  regard  to  the  unexplored  reaches  of  the 
Chubut  River. 

"  Good !  "  said  Power.  "  I  give  your  syndicate  my 
personal  undertaking  to  pay  the  sum  of  forty  thou- 
sand dollars  when  we  reach  any  place  where  there  is 
a  bank  with  a  New  York  agent.  I  really  mean  what 
I  say,"  he  went  on,  seeing  the  blank  Incredulity  writ- 
*  A  paper  dollar  i?  wortl)  about  40  per  cent,  of  the  gold  dollar. 


The  New  Life  279 

ten  on  three  faces.  "  I  am  rich  enough  to  table  that 
offer  without  the  slightest  chance  of  failing  to  make 
good.  Even  though  I  die  on  the  way  to  the  coast,  you 
will  have  my  written  undertaking,  which  will  be  hon- 
ored by  my  bankers.  If  I  survive  the  journey,  a  cable- 
gram will  convince  you  of  my  financial  standing.  Natu- 
rally, you  will  ask  why  I  behave  so  generously.  Well, 
there  are  three  reasons:  Were  it  not  for  your  pres- 
ence here,  I  might  never  have  had  a  chance  of  returning 
to  civilization;  so  I  am  disposed  to  pay  liberally  for 
your  safe  escort,  which,  to  my  thinking,  has  been  sent 
by  Providence  in  my  special  behalf.  That,  in  itself, 
should  suffice  as  an  explanation.  But  the  remaining 
motives  are  almost  equally  strong.  I  am  sure  you  are 
rushing  to  certain  death  if  you  advance  another  mile 
up  the  valley;  but,  supposing,  as  you  imagine,  that 
your  guns  open  the  path,  it  will  be  across  the  dead  bod- 
ies of  a  people  whom  I  have  learned  to  like,  and  among 
whom  I  have  passed  three  not  unhappy  years.  Very 
well !  I  purchase  their  lives.  All  I  demand  to  seal  the 
bargain  is  your  promise  to  start  downstream  at  day- 
break, taking  me  with  you;  but  leaving  here  all  the 
pieces  of  iron,  knives,  nails,  and  such  like  articles  you 
can  spare  from  your  equipment.  The  Indians  will  find 
and  value  them.  They  have  no  knowledge  of  metallic 
ores.  There  are  hardly  any  to  be  found  in  this  lo- 
cality. It  is  a  dead  land,  mere  shale  and  rock  and 
crumbling  earth,  devoid  of  the  riches  which  alone  would 
make  it  habitable.  What  do  you  say?  If  you  agree 
to  my  terms,  give  me  a  pen  and  paper,  I  suppose  I 
still  can  write,  though  I  have  not  held  a  pen  during 
seven  years." 


280  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

The  man  who  could  tame,  and  partly  civilize,  two 
Indian  tribes  was  not  like  to  fail  when  called  on 
to  subjugate  men  of  his  own  or  a  kindred  race.  The 
triumvirate  yielded.  Next  day,  when  the  canoes  had 
gone  ahead.  Power  bestrode  one  of  the  dozen  horses 
which  accompanied  the  expedition.  The  rearguard  set 
off  at  a  canter,  since  a  rolling  down  ran  for  eight 
miles  to  the  first  portage.  As  Power  rode  away  with 
his  new  friends  a  long  drawn-out,  shrill  wailing  came 
from  the  forest.  The  Indians  understood  then.  Their 
territory  was  left  unspoiled;  but  they  had  lost  their 
wonder-worker.  Had  they  but  known  it,  the  "  white 
fool "  drew  his  hand  across  his  eyes  to  clear  away  the 
tears. 


For  three  weeks  the  horsemen  and  canoes  followed  the 
windings  of  a  river  the  waters  of  which  were  never 
turbid  or  blue,  but  emerald  green,  except  during  oc- 
casional sunsets,  when  they  became  a  vivid  crimson. 
Then  the  party  reached  Port  Madryn,  whence  a  small 
steamer  took  its  chief  members  to  Carmen,  in  the  Rio 
Negro  Territory.  The  Spaniards  hailed  from  that 
place,  and  Sinclair,  who  had  sold  his  Chubut  ranch, 
had  left  his  daughter  with  friends  there.  There  was 
no  cable  available;  but,  by  this  time,  Sinclair  and  his 
partners  would  as  soon  have  distrusted  an  archbishop's 
word  as  Power's.  Each  day  he  reverted  more  and  more 
to  type;  yet  he  lost  nothing  of  the  dignity  and  air  of 
reposeful  strength  which  his  wanderings  had  conferred. 
So,  when  he  gave  written  orders  for  the  various  sums 
due  on  his  bond,  they  were  accepted  with  the  confidence 


The  New  Life  281 

which  would  have  been  shown  in  the  certified  checks  of  a 
state  bank. 

The  vessel  had  to  steam  several  miles  up  the  Rio 
Negro  (the  river  is  called  "  black  ";  but  it  is  green  as 
the  Chubut)  before  touching  the  wharf  at  Carmen. 
News  of  their  coming  had  preceded  them,  though  no 
mention  had  been  made  of  Power,  and  it  was  vastly 
amusing  to  Sinclair  when  his  daughter,  after  embrac- 
ing him  affectionately,  turned  and  held  out  her  hand 
to  the  brown-skinned  stranger. 

"  Welcome  to  Patagonia,  Mr.  Power !  "  she  cried.  "  I 
was  sure  you  would  come  to  us  some  day ;  though  I  was 
told  in  Valparaiso,  three  years  ago,  that  you  were  lost 
utterly  in  the  depths  of  the  Andes." 

"  So  you  have  not  forgotten  me?  "  was  all  that  Power 
could  find  to  say ;  though  he  flushed  with  pleasure  at 
this  prompt  recognition. 

"  Forgotten  you  ?  Didn't  I  tell  you  I  should  know 
you  again  in  twenty  years  ?  " 

"  I  am  glad  to  have  survived  even  a  third  of  the  time 
in  your  memory."  ^ 

"  Well,  please  don't  test  it  so  severely  again.  What 
have  you  been  doing  to  yourself?  You  look  like  an 
Indian." 

"  Meg,"  broke  in  her  father,  "  I  hoped  that 
four  months'  residence  in  a  Spanish  household  would 
give  you  a  more  polite  way  of  expressing  your- 
self." 

"  Mr.  Power  takes  that  as  a  compliment,  I  am  sufe. 
When  we  parted  he  was  running  away  from  the  flesh- 
pots  of  Egypt — or  was  it  Bison?  Evidently  he  has 
succeeded   in   his   object.     He   is   lean   as   a   herring. 


282  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

Where  did  you  find  him,  Dad?  Ruling  a  tribe  of  Arau- 
canians,  I'm  certain." 

"  If  I  hadn't  found  him,  you  would  never  have  seen 
me  again,  Girly.  But  we  can't  tell  the  horrible  story 
here  on  the  quay.  Take  me  to  a  long  cane  chair,  and 
mix  me  a  whisky  and  soda.  That  wretched  little  tub 
of  a  steamer  tried  to  stand  on  its  head  last  night." 

One  thing  was  evident.  Power  had  convinced  his 
companions  of  the  real  danger  they  had  escaped.  He 
had  said  no  word  concerning  the  canyon,  while  it  con- 
stituted the  Indians'  defense;  but  it  was  betraying  no 
secret  to  make  clear  its  perils  during  the  journey  to 
the  coast. 

Next  day,  after  breakfast,  Sinclair  drew  him  aside, 
and  handed  him  a  sealed  envelop. 

"  Meg  objects  strongly  to  the  arrangement  we  en- 
tered into,  in  so  far  as  it  affects  me,"  he  explained. 
"  She  insists  that  I  return  your  draft.  I  was  turning 
the  matter  over  in  my  own  mind,  and  I  was  not  alto- 
gether happy  about  it.    Now  I  see  that  she  is  right." 

"  But  both  of  you  happen  to  be  wrong,"  said  Power. 

"  We're  not.  Why  in  blazes  should  you  pay  me? 
The  boot  is  on  the  other  leg.  I  owe  you  my  life.  Look 
here,  Power,  the  thing  can't  be  argued.  If  it  pleases 
you  to  let  my  Spanish  friends  have  their  share  of  the 
money,  I'll  not  say  a  word,  one  way  or  the  other;  but 
I'll  see  you  cremated  before  I  cash  that  draft !  " 

"  Let  me  defray  your  out-of-pocket  expenses,  at  any 
rate." 

"  Not  a  centavo !  If  you  say  anything  more  about 
it,  I'll  get  an  actuary  to  calculate  my  life  value,  and 
worry  you  till  you  accept  a  settlement  in  full." 


The  New  Life  288 

"  Women  invariably  take  a  distorted  view  of  a  mat- 
ter like  this,"  protested  Power. 

Sinclair  laughed.  "  Oh,  you  have  discovered  that, 
have  you?  "  he  said.  "  Well,  I  can't  afford  to  quarrel 
with  Meg,  and  her  heart  is  set  on  your  tearing  up  the 
draft,  Mr.  Power." 

The  girl  herself  never  mentioned  the  incident;  but, 
when  next  they  met,  Power  felt  that  a  slight  constraint 
of  which  he  was  sensible  in  her  manner  that  morning 
had  gone  completely, 

Sinclair's  affairs  in  Patagonia  were  settled  before 
he  set  out  on  that  long  trek  into  the  wilds;  but  there 
still  remained  some  odds  and  ends  of  business  which 
detained  him  nearly  a  month  in  Carmen.  During  those 
placid  days  Power  and  Marguerite  Sinclair  were  to- 
gether constantly.  They  boated  on  the  Rio  Negro, 
fished  in  its  swift  current,  rode  long  miles  over  the 
gray  and  treeless  pampas.  The  girl  was  a  woman  now, 
and,  were  it  not  for  that  cruel  disfigurement  of  one 
side  of  her  face,  a  singularly  attractive  one.  She  was 
never  dull,  never  at  a  loss  for  a  new  and  original  turn 
to  the  old  topics.  Her  interests  covered  a  surprisingly 
wide  range.  Whether  singing  Spanish  songs  to  her 
own  accompaniment  on  a  guitar,  or  discoursing  learn- 
edly on  the  habits  of  the  migratory  wild-fowl  with 
which  Patagonia  abounds,  she  never  failed  to  acquit 
herself  with  vivacious  charm.  Indeed,  the  recluse  of 
the  Andes  could  not  have  been  more  favored  by  for- 
tune in  the  choice  of  a  companion.  With  sure  touch, 
and  a  happy  blend  of  raillery  and  sympathy,  she  led 
him  back  to  the  gracious  intimacies  of  every-day  ex- 
istence.    A  keen  and  discriminating  reader  of  contem- 


284i  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

porary  literature,  she  set  herself  the  congenial  task 
of  filling  the  immense  gap  of  the  years  lost  out  of  this 
remarkable  man's  life.  On  his  part,  so  avid  was  he  of 
the  joys  of  regained  citizenship  of  the  world  that  he 
was  blithely  unaware  of  the  place  she  filled  in  his 
thoughts  until  the  day  of  parting. 

He  had  traveled  with  father  and  daughter  to  Buenos 
Aires,  whence  he  cabled  to  New  York,  and  was  placed 
in  possession  of  ample  funds.  The  Sinclairs  were  bound 
for  England,  and  their  steamer  sailed  almost  immedi- 
ately, and  the  vessel  which  would  take  him  to  New 
York  was  timed  to  start  next  day. 

They  lunched  together  in  the  Hotel  de  PEurope, 
Plaza  Victoria,  and  Sinclair  had  left  the  younger  peo- 
ple for  a  few  minutes  while  interviewing  a  lawyer  who 
had  charge  of  certain  financial  matters  in  the  Argen- 
tine. Some  chance  remark  led  Power  to  realize  that 
Marguerite  Sinclair's  bright  personality  would  soon  be 
merged  with  yesterday's  seven  thousand  years,  and  the 
knowledge  darkened  his  new-born  optimism  as  the  black 
portent  of  a  tornado  blots  out  the  blue  of  a  sum- 
mer sky. 

It  was  hardly  surprising  that  the  discovery  came  thus 
tardily.  The  philosophical  habit  of  mind  induced  by 
constant  association  with  fatalistic  Indians  was  not 
to  be  cast  off  like  a  disused  garment.  When  each  day 
resembled  its  predecessor,  when  the  needs  of  the  hour 
rendered  care  for  the  morrow  an  additional  burden, 
he  had  trained  himself  to  live,  and  almost  to  think,  ac- 
cording to  savage  ethics,  and  it  was  with  a  positive 
shock  that  he  awoke  to  the  fact  that  before  many  hours 
had  sped  he  would  be  alone.    But,  once  it  had  entered 


The  New  Life  285 

his  soul,  the  leaven  worked  rapidly.  They  were  talking 
in  conventional  strain  about  her  father's  plans  for  the 
future,  which  centered  around  a  small  sporting  estate 
in  Derbyshire,  once  owned  by  his  family  and  now  in 
the  market,  when  Power  rose  suddenly. 

"  If  you  have  finished  luncheon,"  he  said,  "  come  with 
me  into  the  gardens  across  the  plaza.  We'll  leave  word 
of  our  whereabouts  with  the  hotel  people,  so  that  Mr. 
Sinclair  will  not  think  I  have  abducted  you.'* 

She  paled  slightly,  and  seemed  to  hesitate,  but  only 
for  an  instant.  "Why  not?"  she  said,  dropping  the 
white  double  veil  she  always  wore  in  public. 

Power  rather  looked  for  some  biting  retort  when 
he  spoke  of  abducting  her,  and  her  unexpected  meek- 
ness was  somewhat  disconcerting.  Each  was  tongue- 
tied,  and  they  walked  away  together  in  silence.  A 
good  many  eyes  followed  them  as  they  left  the  hotel, 
for  the  girl's  slender,  lissome  figure  and  noticeably  ele- 
gant carriage  would  have  attracted  the  attention  of 
more  censorious  critics  than  a  gathering  of  Spanish- 
Americans,  while  the  wealth  of  brown  hair  which 
crowned  her  shapely  head  and  column-like  neck  was 
adequately  set  off  by  a  smart  hat.  Power,  too,  evoked 
some  comment.  People  who  saw  him  for  the  first  time 
invariably  asked  who  he  was.  A  man  who  has  twice 
established  an  empire,  even  among  Indians,  cannot  pos- 
sibly lack  distinction,  no  matter  how  effectually  the 
outfitting  tailor  may  democratize  him. 

They  entered  the  gardens,  and  Power  led  Mar- 
guerite to  a  seat  under  a  tree  whose  spreading  branches, 
broad-leafed  and  flower-laden,  supplied  grateful  shade. 
If  he  could  have  peered  beneath  that  heavy  veil,  he 


286  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

would  have  seen  that  his  companion  was  obviously  ill 
at  ease;  but  there  was  no  trace  of  nervousness  in  her 
voice  when  she  said,  with  a  laugh : 

"  This,  I  suppose,  is  the  local  Garden  of  Eden." 

"  Why  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"  Because  we  are  reclining  under  a  Paradise  tree.'* 

**  I  don't  see  any  serpents,  and  I  cannot  bring  my- 
self to  regard  you  as  either  a  cherub  or  a  seraph." 

"  How  unkind  of  you !  Here  have  I  been  behaving 
angelically  all  day,  just  because  you  will  soon  see  the 
last  of  me,  and  that  is  my  reward." 

"  I  believe  the  sex  of  angels  is  a  matter  of  fierce 
dispute  in  certain  circles.  I  wouldn't  dare  form  an 
opinion,  and,  just  now  at  any  rate,  I  am  vexed  by  a 
different  problem.  If  this  tree  is  really  the  tree  of 
the  knowledge  of  good  and  evil,  its  influence  will  be 
helpful,  because  we  should  be  moved  to  candor.  I 
brought  you  here  to  ask  you  some  questions  of  vital 
importance  to  myself.  Are  you  promised  to  any  man 
in  marriage  ?  " 

"No.    Is  it  likely?" 

Not  often  did  the  bitter  consciousness  of  her  marred 
beauty  rise  thus  bluntly  to  her  lips;  but  she  blurted 
it  out  now  involuntarily.  In  this  supreme  moment  it 
came  as  a  protest  against  the  edict  of  the  gods.  Even 
while  she  trembled  in  the  belief  that  a  happiness  she 
had  not  dared  to  think  of  sanely  was  about  to  be  vouch- 
safed to  her,  she  could  not  restrain  her  terror  lest  the 
disillusionment  of  her  scarred  face  might  cost  her 
the  love  of  the  one  man  on  earth  she  wanted  to  marry. 
It  was  the  heartfelt  cry  of  a  woman  denied  her  birth- 
right.    "Male   and   female   created  he   them."     The 


The  New  Life  287 

sorry  trick  of  fate  which  had  tarnished  the  fair  tab- 
ernacle that  enshrined  so  many  gifts  had  never  before 
exhibited  its  true  malice.  In  a  word,  Marguerite  Sin- 
clair was  a  woman,  and  the  great  crisis  of  her  life 
had  found  her  unprepared  and  nearly  hysterical. 

Power,  of  course,  was  splendidly  deaf  to  her  satire 
and  its  cause. 

"  I  should  say  it  was  the  most  likely  thing  imag- 
inable,"   he    replied.      "  I    wish "      He    broke   off 

abruptly.  "  You  and  I  should  have  no  reservations," 
he  went  on,  after  a  pause,  "  and  it  would  not  be  quite 
honest  if  I  voiced  the  banal  notion  I  had  in  mind.  Yet 
I  must  tell  you  something  of  my  history.  You  know, 
I  suppose,  that  I  am  going  to  ask  you  to  marry  me; 
but,  before  you  answer,  you  must  hear  the  plea,  the 
defense,  of  a  man  who  committed  a  crime  and  had  to 
pay  the  penalty." 

"  You  committed  no  crime,  Derry,"  and  the  girl's 
utterance  was  so  low  and  sweet  that  it  swept  through 
his  inmost  being  like  a  chord  of  exquisite  music.  Some 
seconds  elapsed  before  he  understood  that  she  had  used 
a  name  which  could  not  have  come  to  her  knowledge 
without  a  far  more  intimate  acquaintance  with  his  past 
life  than  he  believed  possible. 

"  Derry !  "  he  repeated  blankly.  "  How  have  you 
found  out  that  those  I  once  held  dear  called  me 
'Derry'?" 

She  forced  herself  to  speak  calmly ;  though  her  hands 
were  clenched  in  sheer  physical  effort  to  quell  the  riot 
in  heart  and  brain. 

"  I  am  not  as  other  women,"  she  said ;  "so  I  say 
shamelessly  that  I  loved  you  practically  from  the  hour 


288  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

we  first  met.  Do  you  remember?  You  looked  at  me, 
and  then  turned  your  eyes  away  resolutely,  lest  you 
should  hurt  my  feelings  by  seeming  to  gaze  at  my 
scarred  features.  I  knew  that  night  that  you  were 
a  man  scourged  by  the  wrath  of  Heaven,  and  my  sym- 
pathies went  out  to  you;  for,  in  my  own  small  way, 
I  realized  what  you  felt.  But  your  affliction  was  of 
the  spirit,  and  mine  of  the  flesh,  and  I  could  afford  to 
laugh  at  my  malaise  except — except  on  an  occasion  like 
this,  when  a  man  says  he  wants  to  marry  me,  but  says 
nothing  of  love.  No,  please!  Hear  me  out.  I  am 
really  answering  your  question,  in  a  woman's  way, 
perhaps,  but  candidly,  with  a  frankness  that  should 
blight  romance.  When  we  parted  at  Valparaiso,  my 
thoughts  dwelt  with  you.  You  are  the  one  man  I  have 
ever  cared  for,  in  that  way.  During  these  weary  years 
I  have  hugged  the  delusion  that  some  day  you  would 
tell  me  that  you  loved  me.  Well,  I  admit  that  love 
was  implied  when  you  spoke  of  marriage;  but  you 
have  often  been  annoyed  or  amused  by  my  distorted 
method  of  looking  at  things,  and  you  should  not  re- 
sent it  now  when  it  happens  to  describe  the  situation 
exactly — ^because  you  yourself  almost  began  by  say- 
ing that  you  wished  we  had  met  before  another  woman 
came  into  your  life.  Yes,  I  know — at  any  rate,  I  can 
guess — why  you  were  buried  alive  for  seven  years.  My 
action  may  sound  contemptible;  but  a  woman  in  love 
does  not  stop  to  weigh  niceties  of  behavior.  When  I 
could  get  no  news  of  you  by  other  means,  I  wrote 
to  a  school  friend  at  Denver.  Among  the  people  she 
met  when  making  inquiries  were  a  Dr.  Stearn  and  a 
Mr.  Benson.     They  did  not  tell  her  much;  but  femi- 


The  New  Life  289 

nine  gossip  is  far-reaching,  and  sometimes  it  probes 
deeply.  I  know  you  loved  Nancy  Willard.  I  know 
how  you  were  separated  from  her.  I  know  you  met  her 
again  in  Newport.  I  know  you  blamed  yourself  for 
the  death  of  your  mother.  I  know  that  your  friends 
thought  you  were  mad,  but  pitied  you,  because  yours 
was  a  grievous  plight.  You  see  now  how  I  peeped  and 
pried  into  your  life.  Oh!  it  was  mean  and  despicable 
of  me.  It  is  not  for  you  to  plead  and  make  excuse. 
That  is  my  wretched  task.  Is  it  any  sort  of  vindica- 
tion to  tell  you  that  my  heart  ached  because  of  that 
far-away  look  ever  in  your  eyes  while  we  voyaged  south? 
You  have  not  forgotten  that  I  said  you  resembled  a 
man  walking  in  his  sleep?  Well,  I  wanted  to  find  out 
what  sort  of  folly  or  suffering  had  induced  that  trance. 
My  poor  little  heart  sang  with  joy  when  you  stepped 
ashore  at  Carmen,  and  I  saw  that  your  obsession  had 
gone,  that  you  had  come  to  life  again,  that  no  pale 
specters  stood  between  us.  Now  you  have  heard  my 
confession,  it  is  for  you  to  take  time — before — you 
commit  yourself — to  vows — which  you  may  regret." 

It  was  as  much  as  she  could  do  to  utter  those  con- 
cluding words.  The  tears  she  might  not  repress  were 
stealing  silently  down  her  cheeks,  and  small,  dark 
patches  showed  where  the  tightly  drawn  veil  touched 
the  corners  of  her  mouth.  The  hotel  porch  was  visible 
between  two  clumps  of  tropical  shrubbery,  and,  when 
a  mule-drawn  street-car  moved  out  of  the  way.  Power 
saw  Sinclair's  tall,  thin  figure  standing  in  the  door- 
way. Evidently,  his  glance  was  searching  the  gardens 
for  the  missing  pair,  and  the  departure  of  the  tram 
rendered  them  visible.     He  raised  a  hand,  and  opened 


290  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

and  closed  it  twice.  Power  waved  comprehension,  and 
Sinclair  vanished.  Perhaps  he  had  a  shrewd  notion 
of  the  subject  of  their  talk,  and  was  minded  not  to 
disturb  them  till  the  last  moment. 

"  I  take  it  your  father  means  that  we  still  have 
ten  minutes  at  our  disposal,"  said  Power. 

The  girl  nodded.  If  she  spoke  then,  she  would  have 
screamed. 

"  You  have  relieved  me  of  a  highly  disagreeable 
task,"  he  went  on  composedly.  "  Of  course,  I  accept 
none  of  the  unkind  and  unjust  strictures  you  passed 
on  yourself.  This  has  been  a  strange  wooing;  but  it 
is  the  best  apology  for  the  real  thing  I  can  contrive  in 
the  conditions.  Some  day,  soon,  I  shall  take  you  in 
my  arms  and  tell  you  that  I  love  you.  When  that  day 
dawns,  I  shall  be  hindered  by  no  ghosts;  none  other, 
that  is,  than  a  lurking  fear  lest  such  a  wreck  of  a  man 
may  not  be  deemed  worthy  of  the  pure,  sweet  love  of 
a  woman  like  you.  Good  God !  Can  it  be  possible  that 
so  great  a  happiness  is  entering  into  my  broken 
life?" 

Then  the  delirium  of  joy  vanquished  the  girl's  fears, 
and  she  contrived  to  say  haltingly : 

"  Derry,  do  you  really  care  for  me  ?  Do  you  think 
that  such  a  poor  scarecrow  as  I  can  make  you  forget 
all  that  you  have  endured?  " 

He  laughed,  and  the  blithe  ring  of  his  mirth  was  so 
eloquent  of  his  real  feelings  that  the  blood  raced  in 
her  veins  like  quicksilver. 

"  We  must  begin  by  refusing  to  call  each  other  hard 
names,"  he  cried.  "  In  truth,  I  regard  myself  as  a 
tolerably  compact  wreck,  while  *  scarecrow,'  as  applied 


The  New  Life  291 

to  you,  would  make  a  cat  laugh.  Suppose  we  stick  to 
*  Derry  '  and  '  Meg '  until  the  wonder  passes,  and  we 
venture  among  those  endearing  terms  in  which  our 
language  is  so  rich.  But,  if  you  must  have  my  opin- 
ion about  your  face — if  you  won't  be  happy  till  you 
get  it — I  want  to  tell  you  now  that  before  I  kiss  your 
lips  I  shall  kiss  that  dear,  scarred  cheek,  because  I 
know  well  that,  by  God's  providence,  when  the  Indians 
thrust  you  into  the  flames  of  your  ranch,  a  mark  was 
set  on  you  that  reserved  you  for  me.  Were  it  not 
for  that,  you  could  never  have  waited  for  me  during 
the  long  years  since  we  traveled  together  on  the  Fan- 
ama.  Why,  Meg,  there  is  no  woman  to  compare  with 
you  in  all  this  great  city !  But,  look  here !  Confound 
my  impudence  I  Man-like,  I  blandly  ignore  my  own  de- 
fects.    How  about  my  limp  ?  " 

"  Derry,  in  my  eyes,  there  is  no  man  in  all  the  world 
to  compare  with  you." 

"  Then  we  are  profoundly  satisfied  with  one  an- 
other, and  I  really  don't  see  what  we  have  to  bother 
about  otherwise.  I  am  going  now  to  tell  your  father 
that  we  have  arranged  to  be  married  as  soon  as  I 
arrive  in  England,  which  will  be  not  more  than  two 
months  from  this  day.  I  think  he  likes  me,  and  will 
endure  me  as  a  son-in-law.  If  I  obeyed  my  own  im- 
pulses, I  should  not  leave  you  again.  I  suppose  that 
common  sense  urges  me  to  visit  New  York  and  Colo- 
rado, just  to  look  into  my  business  affairs.  In  fact, 
in  view  of  our  marriage,  I  simply  must  go  there.  But 
I  shall  hurry,  never  fear.  Come  along,  Meg.  I'm 
wide  awake  now.  You  have  exorcised  the  evil  spirit 
that  possessed  me;  but  I  shall  be  in  a  new  fever  till 


292  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

next  we  meet,  and  there  is  no  more  parting  in  this 
life." 

Thus  was  love  reborn  in  Power's  heart.  The  pity 
of  it  was  that  he  did  not  yield  to  the  tiny  god's  ardent 
whispers,  and  refuse  to  relinquish  his  chosen  bride,  even 
for  a  brief  space.  But,  as  he  said,  common  sense  de- 
manded his  presence  in  America,  and  common  sense  has 
shattered  many  dreams. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

POWER  DRIVEN  INTO 
WILDERNESS 

PowEE  arrived  at  New  York  in  mid- winter.  He 
found  that  crowded  hive  humming,  as  usual,  with  life 
and  its  activities,  but  in  a  new  and  perplexing  way. 
The  Waldorf  Hotel  had  become  the  Waldorf-Astoria, 
and,  while  doubling  its  name,  had  increased  fourfold  in 
size.  Its  main  corridor  had  the  bustle  and  crush  of  a 
busy  street ;  but  every  face  had  an  aspect  of  aloofness, 
almost  of  hostility.  The  old,  intimate  life  of  America 
had  vanished.  None  paid  heed  to  the  newcomer.  The 
spick-and-span  occupants  of  the  reception  bureau  evi- 
dently regarded  him  as  Room  Number  So-and-so.  Con- 
fused and  mystified  by  the  well-dressed  throng  of  the 
hotel's  patrons,  he  failed  to  notice,  at  first,  that  it 
was  composed  of  individuals,  or  groups,  as  unknown  to 
one  another  as  he  was  to  the  mass ;  that,  in  very  truth, 
it  was 

**.  .  .  no  other  than  a  moving  row 
Of  Magic  Shadow-shapes  that  come  and  go." 

He  reached  the  hotel  early  in  the  evening,  and  was 
fortunate  in  being  able  to  secure  a  suite  of  rooms. 
Soon  wearying  of  the  traffic  in  that  world's  fair  which 
caustic  New  York  has  nicknamed  "  Rubberneck  Al- 
ley," he  bought  a  newspaper,  and  retired  to  his  apart- 


294  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

ments.  But  the  day's  record  held  no  interest  for  him. 
He  knew  little  of  the  men  and  women  who  figured 
therein ;  even  less  of  the  events  which  called  for  big 
type  and  immense  headlines. 

But  his  eye  was  caught  by  an  announcement  of  a 
performance  that  night  of  Gounod's  "  Faust  "  at  the 
Metropolitan  Opera  House.  He  resolved  to  go  there, 
never  dreaming  that  the  odds  were  hundreds  to  one 
against  the  chance  of  obtaining  a  seat;  for  New  York 
had  just  entered  the  lists  against  the  other  capitals  of 
the  world,  and  was  determined  to  capture  the  leading 
place  in  the  grand-opera  tourney. 

He  telephoned  the  office,  "  Kindly  get  me  a  stall  for 
the  Metropolitan  this  evening." 

And,  behold!  a  blase  clerk  was  actually  stirred  out 
of  boredom  by  the  surprising  statement  received  from 
the  box-office  that  a  stall  had  just  been  returned,  and 
he  could  have  it  now  if  he  closed  at  once.  So  Power 
never  knew  what  a  trick  Fortune  had  played  him,  since 
there  can  be  little  doubt  that  the  impression  made  by 
the  marvelous  music  and  extraordinarily  human  appeal 
of  "  Faust  "  insensibly  prepared  him  for  the  tragic 
events  of  the  coming  day.  Imagine  a  man  of  musical 
bent,  who  had  dwelt  seven  years  among  veritable  sav- 
ages, renewing  his  acquaintance  with  the  muses  by  hear- 
ing the  most  poignant  of  stage  love-stories  told  in 
Gounod's  impassioned  strains  and  interpreted  by  fa- 
mous singers  and  a  superb  orchestra! 

The  exquisite  tenderness  of  the  doomed  lover's  first 
address  to  Marguerite  thrilled  his  inmost  being. 
"  Ne  permettrez-vous  pas,  ma  belle  demoiselle, 
Qu*en  vous  offre  le  bras,  pour  faire  le  chemin?  " 


Power  Driven  into  Wilderness        295 

He  was  struck  by  the  coincidence  that  the  woman 
to  whom  he  was  pledged  should  be  named  Marguerite! 
Faire  le  chemin!  Yes,  they  would  soon  be  taking  the 
long  road  of  life  together.  What  assured  happiness 
seemed  to  breathe  from  each  perfect  note;  yet  what 
horror  and  despair  would  be  the  outcome  of  the  man's 
ardor  and  the  maid's  shy  diffidence !  When  Marguerite 
told  Faust  that  she  was  ni  demoiselle,  ni  belle.  Power 
could  hardly  fail  to  recollect  that  his  own  Marguerite, 
not  without  cruel  cause,  was  ever  tortured  by  the  fear 
that  her  disfigurement  might  some  day  turn  him  from 
her  with  loathing.  Even  the  slaying  of  Valentine  as 
the  direct  outcome  of  his  sister's  frailty  seemed,  to 
the  overwrought  imagination  of  one  member  of  the 
audience,  to  bear  an  uncanny  analogy  to  his  mother's 
death.  There  remained  one  other  point  of  contact 
between  the  story  of  the  opera  and  Power's  own  life; 
but,  fortunately  for  him,  or  his  surcharged  emotions 
might  not  have  withstood  the  strain,  he  could  not 
recognize  as  yet  that  last  and  most  terrible  similar- 
ity. 

As  It  was,  his  rapt  interest  In  the  opera  attracted 
the  attention  of  his  neighbors  in  the  stalls.  As  a  girl 
whispered  to  her  attendant  cavalier: 

"  That  man  near  us — the  man  with  the  piercing  eyes 
and  worn  face — seems  to  regard  *  Faust '  as  history 
rather  than  allegory." 

"  Perhaps  he  sees  the  allegory,"  was  the  answer,  and 
the  girl  shrugged  her  pretty  shoulders.  She  was  young, 
and  dwelt  in  a  sheltered  garden.  To  her,  "  Faust " 
was  only  an  opera.  It  had  nothing  to  do  with  the 
realities  of  life;  which,  if  she  were  asked  for  a  defini- 


296  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

tion,  consisted  mainly  of  so  ordering  one's  time  as  to 
miss  no  important  social  function. 

Next  morning,  though  aware  of  a  nervous  system  still 
In  a  curious  state  of  exaltation  and  strain  after  his 
overnight  experiences,  Power  yielded  quickly  to  the 
stimulating  effect  of  the  keen,  cold  air  and  bright  sun- 
shine of  a  typical  winter's  day  on  the  North  Atlantic 
seaboard.  After  breakfast  he  walked  to  his  bank,  and 
was  received  as  one  risen  from  the  dead.  Financial 
institutions,  even  the  soundest  and  most  conservative, 
have  a  special  flair  for  clients  who  allow  vast  sums 
of  money  to  accumulate,  year  by  year,  at  rates  of 
interest  which  suit  the  bank's  own  purposes. 

When  Power  had  been  welcomed  heartily  by  the 
manager — his  friend  of  former  days,  now  promoted — 
the  latter  said  cheerfully: 

"  Well,  since  you  have  actually  returned  from  Mars, 
or  whatever  planet  you  may  have  been  visiting,  I  sup- 
pose you  want  to  look  into  your  account.''  " 

"  It  seems  a  reasonable  thing  to  do,  especially  as 
I  am  thinking  of  marrying,"  agreed  Power. 

The  official  gave  some  instruction  to  the  general  of- 
fice, and  a  passbook  was  produced.  There  were,  of 
course,  hardly  any  entries  on  the  debit  side,  and  pay- 
ments from  mine  and  ranch  had  been  made  half-yearly ; 
so  one  small  book  contained  the  whole  of  the  seven 
years'  statement.  Power,  unaccustomed  as  yet  to  the 
methods  of  financial  bookkeeping,  turned  to  the  latest 
column,  and  saw  a  row  of  figures.  He  looked  perplexed, 
whereat  the  manager  smiled. 

"  Well,"  came  the  question,  "  I  fancy  you  find  your- 
self well  able  to  maintain  a  wife?  " 


Power  Driven  into  Wilderness        297 

Power's  eyes  seemed  to  be  fascinated  by  the  item  which 
had  first  attracted  them. 

"  Y-yes,"  he  said  hesitatingly ;  "  but  I  had  a  notion 
that  I  was  very  much  better  off." 

Then  it  was  the  manager's  turn  to  be  puzzled.  He 
rose,  came  round  the  table  at  which  the  two  were  seated, 
and  adjusted  his  eyeglasses. 

"  Better  off !  "  he  exclaimed.    "  Why,  you  are  a  very 

rich  man,  Mr.  Power.    Don't  you  see "     He  broke 

into  a  loud  laugh  as  he  discovered  the  entry  which 
this  queer-mannered  client  was  gazing  at.  "  Man 
alive,"  he  cried,  "  that  is  the  last  half-year's  interest 
on  your  capital!  The  current  rate  is  rather  low,  two 
and  one-half  per  cent.  Here,"  and  he  pointed  to  the 
top  of  the  page,  "  is  a  summary  of  your  deposit — 
four  million  dollars,  all  in  hard  cash.  If  you  mean  to 
begin  investing,  I  must  ask  you  to  go  slow.  Even  in 
your  own  interests,  that  is  advisable.  Heavy  pur- 
chases of  stock  tend  to  bull  the  market,  and  it  is  a 
little  inclined  to  go  that  way  at  the  moment.  I'll  give 
you  a  list  of  gilt-edged  securities  which  will,  of  course, 
nearly  double  your  annual  revenue  from  invested  capi- 
tal alone.  You  had  better  show  it  to  some  other  ad- 
viser, and,  when  you  have  selected  your  stocks,  let  me 
begin  operating.  I  can  carry  the  whole  thing  through 
in  a  couple  of  months  without  letting  Wall  Street  know 
that  a  big  buyer  is  in  the  market." 

Power  was  rather  stunned  by  the  amount  of  his 
wealth,  and  an  odd  thought  darted  through  his  brain 
that  if,  in  the  world  of  today,  no  tempter  could  bribe 
another  Doctor  Faustus  with  the  offer  of  renewed 
youth,  the  fiend  might  pour  gold  into  his  chosen  vie- 


298  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

tim's  pockets.  Almost  could  he  feel  the  mocking  phan- 
tom at  his  shoulder;  though,  indeed,  there  was  none 
other  in  the  room  than  the  courteous  banker. 

"  Great  Scott ! "  the  latter  was  saying.  "  What  a 
bonanza  that  mine  of  yours  is !  And  Bison  is  growing 
quite  a  town.  I  paid  it  a  flying  visit  last  summer. 
Have  you  been  there  recently?  I  imagine  not,  since 
your  cablegram  came  from  Buenos  Aires." 

Bison  was  a  word  to  evoke  shadows;  but  it  sufficed 
to  drive  one  away  just  then. 

"  Ah,  Bison !  "  said  Power,  standing  up.  "  I  must  go 
west  at  once.  I  have  not  even  made  known  to  Mac- 
Gonigal  my  presence  in  America,  He  is  well,  I 
hope?" 

"  Fatter  than  ever.  There  is  some  talk  of  his  run- 
ning for  governor." 

"  And  Jake,  the  man  in  charge  of  the  ranch?  Did 
you  hear  of  him  when  you  were  in  Colorado?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed.     He  is  married." 

"Married!    Jake!" 

"  More  than  that,  his  wife,  a  pretty  little  woman, 
told  me  she  had  to  threaten  a  divorce  in  order  to  stop 
him  from  mounting  the  little  Jakes  on  what  he  calls 
*  plugs  '  before  the  kiddies  were  well  out  of  the  per- 
ambulator." 

A  clerk  announced  through  a  speaking-tube  that 
someone  wanted  the  banker.  The  conventional,  "  Ask 
him  to  wait  one  minute,"  warned  Power  that  this  was 
no  hour  for  gossip. 

"  I  can  have  some  money  now?  "  he  inquired. 

"  As  much  as  you  like." 

"  May  I  ask — I  am  a  child  in  these  matters — if  good 


Power  Driven  into  Wilderness        299 

diamonds  are  obtainable  in  New  York,  and  what  I  ought 
to  pay  for  a  ring — an  engagement  ring?  " 

"  Our  diamonds  are  not  cheap ;  but  they  are  sup- 
posed to  be  the  pick  of  the  market.  I  think  you  ought 
to  get  a  perfect  ring  for  a  thousand  dollars.  By  the 
way,  there  is  quite  an  accumulation  of  letters  here. 
Leave  your  address,  and  they  will  be  packed  and  sent 
to  your  rooms." 

Power  wrote  a  check  at  the  counter,  and  was  given 
a  bundle  of  notes.  He  went  to  a  well-known  jewelry 
establishment  recommended  by  the  bank  manager,  and 
asked  to  be  shown  some  engagement  rings. 

"What  size,  sir?"  inquired  an  attendant. 

"  Oh,  not  anything  remarkable,  but  of  the  best  qual- 
ity." 

"  I  mean,  sir,  what  size  is  the  lady's  finger?  " 

Power  laughed.  He  realized  that  he  must  come  down 
out  of  the  clouds,  and  pay  heed  occasionally  to  the 
minor  phases  of  life. 

"  I  don't  know.  She  has  small  hands,  and,  long, 
tapering  fingers,"  he  said,  smiling  at  his  own  fatuity; 
for  the  description  might  have  been  a  line  taken  bodily 
out  of  nineteen  novels  among  every  twenty. 

"  It  really  doesn't  matter,  sir,"  said  the  shopman, 
eager  to  please  a  new  customer.  "  If  you  choose  a 
suitable  ring,  the  lady  can  send  or  bring  it  here,  and 
it  will  be  adjusted  to  the  right  size  without  any  delay 
or  extra  charge." 

"  But  she  is  in  England." 

"  Exactly  the  same  conditions  apply  in  our  London 
branch." 

So  Power  bought  a  very  beautiful  ring,  which  hap- 


300  TTie  Terms  of  Surrender 

pened  to  contain  seven  graduated  stones  In  a  single 
row.  The  number  pleased  him,  and  he  was  sure  Meg 
would  note  its  significance.  He  secured  the  gage  thus 
early  so  that  he  might  write  and  tell  her  about  it ;  while 
its  mere  possession  and  safeguarding  would  supply  an 
extra  stimulus  for  a  speedy  crossing  of  the  Atlantic. 

Then  he  strolled  up  Fifth  Avenue,  and  did  not  flinch 
from  memories  of  the  last  time  he  had  passed  through 
that  remarkable  thoroughfare.  He  would  be  callous, 
indeed,  if  his  thoughts  did  not  dwell  on  Nancy,  and  go 
back  to  the  sweet  lawlessness  of  their  brief  compan- 
ionship. Where  was  she  now?  he  wondered.  A  fine 
lady,  no  doubt,  ruffling  it  with  matronly  self- 
possession  among  the  high-born  friends  she  had  won 
in  Paris  and  London.  And  that  mean-spirited  wretch, 
her  father?  Dead,  in  all  probability,  or  eating  his 
heart  out  in  semi-insanity;  for  Power  was  beginning 
to  see,  with  surer,  wider  vision,  that  Willard  must  have 
known  he  was  a  murderer,  since  no  other  hand  but 
his  had  sent  a  dear  and  honored  woman  to  her  grave. 

Then  his  mind  reverted  to  Marguerite  Sinclair,  and 
he  was  comforted  by  his  knowledge  of  her  frank,  joy- 
ous, make-the-best-of-everything  temperament.  He  had 
not  deluded  himself  into  the  belief  that  he  was  marry- 
ing her  in  the  flood-tide  of  passion  which  had  over- 
whelmed Nancy  and  himself.  Pretense  was  always  hate- 
ful to  him,  and  it  would  be  rank  hypocrisy  to  assume 
that  the  madness  of  that  first  love  could  ever  again 
surge  through  heart  and  brain.  Marguerite's  own 
action  in  accepting  him  after  she  had  looked  into  the 
pages  of  his  earlier  life  gave  ample  assurance  that 
she  would  be  content  with  his  faith  and  devotion.     She 


Power  Driven  into  Wilderness        801 

was  no  lovesick  maid,  but  a  woman  of  strong,  clear 
perceptions.  He  was  troubled  with  no  doubt  as  to 
the  future  nor  qualm  as  to  the  past,  and  he  thanked 
Providence  humbly  for  having  allotted  him  such  a  true 
and  honest  helpmate  for  his  remaining  years. 

On  returning  to  the  hotel,  he  found  a  bulky  pack- 
age in  his  room.  It  contained  heaps  of  letters  and 
other  documents  which  had  been  sent  to  the  bank 
or  forwarded  from  Bison,  and,  of  course,  they  were 
mostly  seven  years  old,  or  thereabouts.  Two,  bearing 
recent  postmarks,  caught  his  eye,  and  he  read  them 
first. 

One  was  from  Dacre.  "  You  see,"  it  ran,  "  I  remain 
on  the  map.  If  this  reaches  you,  cable  me.  My  house 
is  yours  for  as  long  as  you  care  to  stay." 

The  other  brought  a  smile  to  his  lips.  It  was  in 
Spanish,  and  signed  "  Bartolomeo  Malaspina  " : 

"  Honored  Sefior  [wrote  the  captain  of  the  Carmen], — 
"  You  asked  me  to  write  after  seven  years.  Well,  praised 
be  my  patron  saint,  I  am  still  alive,  and  I  hope  you  are. 
I  have  often  spoken  to  my  wife  of  the  wretchedness  of 
8oul  you  caused  me  by  disappearing  among  those  accursed 
Indians;  but  I  must  admit,  nevertheless,  that  your  short 
voyage  in  my  ship  brought  me  luck,  for  I  fell  in  with  a 
liner  with  a  broken  shaft  caused  by  colliding  with  a  dere- 
lict, and  she  was  drifting  into  the  reefs  off  Hanover  Island 
when  I  got  a  tow-rope  on  board.  It  was  a  fine  job  to  haul 
her  as  far  as  Punta  Arenas;  but,  thanks  to  the  Eleven  Thou- 
sand Virgins,  I  managed  it,  and  the  salvage  made  me  a 
rich  man.  The  Carmen,  too,  ran  ashore  at  Iquique  on  the 
homeward  voyage,  and  she  was  well  insured.  Write,  I  pray 
you,  if  you  have  escaped  from  the  cannibals.     If  not,  a 


302  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

year  from  this  date,  I  shall  pay  for  two  masses  for  the 
repose  of  your  soul." 

So,  then,  he  was  remembered  by  a  few  friends.  The 
knowledge  consoled  him  for  the  heedless  rush  and  flurry 
of  New  York. 

An  impulse  seized  him  to  break  the  seals  of  an  en- 
velop marked,  "  To  be  burnt,  unopened,  by  my  execu- 
tors," and  take  therefrom  two  letters  which  he  knew 
it  contained.  The  action  was  nothing  more  nor  less 
than  a  trial  of  his  new-born  resolve;  since  the  letters 
were  Nancy's  to  himself  and  Willard's  to  his  mother. 
He  read  them  calmly  and  dispassionately.  Willard's 
malicious  threat  he  dismissed  quickly.  It  had  served 
its  vile  purpose,  and  its  victims  had  paid  the  price  de- 
manded, the  mother  by  death,  the  son  by  suffering.  But 
Nancy's  few  disconnected  sentences  gripped  his  imagi- 
nation with  a  new  force.  Had  he  misjudged  her?  he 
wondered.  What  argument  had  Willard  used  that  she 
yielded  so  promptly  and  completely  ?  The  broken,  piti- 
ful words  brought  a  mist  before  his  eyes.  Poor  girl! 
Perhaps,  in  her  woman's  way,  she  had  endured  miser- 
ies from  which  life  among  the  Indians  had  rescued  him. 
Then  he  recalled  the  farewell  message  she  had  given 
to  Dacre,  and  the  momentary  belief  that  he  might  have 
acted  precipitately  died  away.  Should  he  ever  meet 
her  in  the  years  to  come?  He  hoped  not,  with  all  his 
heart.  He  must  so  contrive  Meg's  life  and  his  own 
that  they  would  pass  their  days  far  from  the  haunts  of 
society.  The  worship  of  the  golden  calf  permits  its 
votaries  no  escape.  Thank  Heaven,  and  he  and  his 
wife  would  never  practise  the  cult ! 


Power  Driven  into  Wilderness        303 

Glancing  casuallj  through  the  rest  of  the  heap,  his 
attention  was  drawn  to  a  couple  of  cablegrams.  He 
opened  one,  and  found  that  it  was  dated  in  the  late 
autumn  of  that  memorable  year.    It  read : 

"  Leave  everything,  and  forget  all  that  has  passed.  Come 
at  once. 

"  N." 

One  night,  sleeping  in  the  depths  of  a  Patagonian 
forest,  he  had  been  aroused  by  the  snarl  of  some  wild 
animal  close  at  hand.  He  had  never  known  what  beast 
it  was  that  rustled  away  among  the  undergrowth;  but 
he  felt  the  same  sense  of  impending  evil  now.  Think- 
ing the  other  message  might  be  more  explanatory,  he 
tore  at  the  envelop  with  nervous  fingers;  but  the  con- 
tents were  an  exact  replica  of  its  predecessor.  Then 
he  saw  that  one  had  been  sent  to  Bison  and  the  other 
to  New  York  on  the  same  day,  the  place  of  origin  of 
each  being  London. 

He  could  not  doubt  that  "  N  "  was  "  Nancy,"  and  he 
asked  himself,  with  quick  foreboding,  what  strong  mo- 
tive had  inspired  this  urgent  command.  He  was  to 
forget  all  that  had  passed!  What  strangely  va- 
riable creatures  woman  were,  to  be  sure!  Could  she, 
or  any  woman,  honestly  imagine  that  such  a  request 
might  be  obeyed?  Forget  that  struggle  between  love 
and  duty;  forget  the  delirium  of  that  fortnight  in  the 
Adirondacks;  forget  the  numb  agony  of  the  days  fol- 
lowing her  flight?  As  soon  might  a  man  forget  his 
own  name! 

Nerving  himself  to  the  task,  he  searched  for  some 


304  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

written  word  which  should  make  clear  the  baffling 
enigma.  Soon  he  came  across  two  letters  in  Nancy's 
handwriting,  and  bearing  the  London  postmark.  The 
dates  were  three  months  apart,  and  the  earlier  one 
corresponded  with  that  on  the  cablegrams ;  so  he  opened 
it  first,  and  read: 

"  My  own  dear  Derry. — A  few  hours  ago  I  cabled  you, 
both  to  Bison  and  New  York,  that  you  are  to  come  to  me 
without  delay,  and  I  hope,  I  even  pray  on  my  knees,  that 
you  are  already  in  the  train  or  steamer.  Still,  I  am  in  such 
a  fever  of  dread  lest  any  untoward  event  may  have  kept  my 
message  from  you,  or  prevented  you  from  starting  instantly, 
that  I  write  also.  If,  which  Heaven  forbid,  any  shred 
of  doubt  or  misgiving  has  gripped  you,  and  you  have  de- 
cided to  await  a  more  explicit  reason  for  my  action  in 
bidding  you  come,  I  am  writing  by  to-day's  mail  to  tell 
you  that  circumstances  beyond  my  control,  or  yours,  render 
it  imperative  that  I  should  leave  Hugh  Marten  now  and 
forever.  Derry,  don't  ask  me  to  explain  myself  more  fully. 
There  are  things  which  a  woman  may  whisper,  but  which 
she  cannot  write.  Yet  it  is  only  just  that  I  should,  at 
least,  make  plain  the  dreadful  conditions  under  which  I 
left  you  five  months  since.  My  father  meant  to  kill  you 
before  my  eyes.  No  consideration  would  have  stopped  him. 
He  was  resolved  to  shoot  you  without  warning  if  I  refused 
to  return  to  Marten's  house,  and  I  yielded;  for  I  could 
not  bear  the  thought  of  seeing  you  stretched  lifeless  in 
front  of  the  dear  little  hut  in  which  we  had  been  so  happy. 
I  may  have  been  weak,  but  I  loved  you  too  much  to  let* 
you  give  your  life  in  exchange  for  my  love,  and  he  con- 
vinced me  that  he  was  in  deadly  earnest.  So  I  went  away 
with  him,  and  tried  to  make  myself  despicable  in  your 
eyes  as  the  surest  way  of  searing  the  bitter  wound  my 


Power  Driven  into  Wilderness        805 

action  would  cause.  Remember,  he  left  me  no  alternative. 
The  break  had  to  be  final,  or  he  would  seek  you  out  and 
slay  you  without  mercy,  and  I  knew  only  too  well  that 
he  not  only  meant  what  he  said,  but  that  our  laws  would 
support  and  public  opinion  acclaim  his  action.  Well,  I 
traveled  with  him  to  England,  and  have  been  so  ill  ever 
since — though  not  physically  such  a  wreck  as  I  have  pre- 
tended to  be — that  Marten  believes  I  am  suffering  from  the 
effects  of  the  heat  wave,  and  has  compelled  me  to  endure 
the  treatment  and  scrutiny  of  many  doctors.     And  today, 

one  of  them But  now  I  must  be  dumb,  except  to  tell 

you  that,  whether  or  not  it  means  death  to  both  of  us, 
you  must  come  and  take  me  away  to  some  secret  place  where 
none  can  find  us.  Don't  think  that  this  letter  is  written 
in  a  moment  of  impulse.  It  is  not  the  product  of  a  woman's 
hysteria.  It  is  a  cry  from  my  very  heart.  And,  in  the 
midst  of  my  desolation,  I  am  glad — oh,  so  glad !  I  am 
aflame  with  a  delight  that  is  almost  superhuman;  for  I 
know  that  you  will  understand,  and  that  nothing  on  earth 
can  ever  part  us  again.  My  tears  are  falling  on  this  page, 
but  my  higher  and  truer  self  is  singing  a  canticle  of  praise 
and  wonderful  joy.  Hurry,  Derry,  hurry! 
**  I  am,  and  have  ever  been, 

"  Your  true  and  devoted 

"  Nancy." 

Power's  brain  was  on  fire  as  he  read;  but  his  heart 
seemed  to  be  in  the  clutch  of  an  icy  hand.  For  some 
minutes — he  never  subsequently  knew  how  long  the 
trance  lasted — he  was  transported  bodily  to  the  shores 
of  a  sunlit  lake,  and  he  lived  again  through  the  frenzy 
of  those  first  hours  after  Nancy's  disappearance. 
When  his  senses  came  back,  and  his  blazing  eyes  could 
discern  the  written   word,  he   read  and   reread  those 


306  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

parts  of  the  letter  which  breathed  her  secret.  Then, 
with  the  listless  despair  of  a  man  who  realizes  that  the 
new  sanctuary  of  hope  and  self-confidence  which  he 
had  constructed  with  so  much  blind  faith,  to  which  he 
had  given  so  many  laborious  years,  was  tumbling  in 
ruins  at  his  feet,  he  opened  the  second  letter,  which 
was  somewhat  bulky,  and  crackled  under  his  touch. 
From  the  middle  of  the  folded  sheet  he  took  a  with- 
ered spray  of  white  heather.  Had  it  been  a  poisonous 
snake  he  could  not  have  started  more  violently.  There 
was  no  doubting  either  its  origin  or  significance.  He 
held  in  his  shaking  hands  the  very  spray  Nancy  car- 
ried at  her  wedding,  and  she  had  sent  it  as  a  token 
that  all  was  at  an  end  between  them.  He  was  minded 
then  and  there  to  commit  the  whole  pile  of  correspond- 
ence to  destroying  flames ;  but  he  was  well  aware  that 
such  a  coward's  trick  would  prove  of  no  avail.  Strive 
as  he  might,  he  could  never  expel  from  his  breast  the 
blighting  knowledge  lodged  there  now  and  forever. 
Those  shrunken  and  faded  strands  of  heather  were 
typical  of  his  own  life.  Not  all  the  alchemies  of  wiz- 
ardry or  miracles  of  science  could  restore  their  bright 
hues.  They  were  dead,  and  sinking  slowly  into  dust. 
No  shower  from  Heaven  could  freshen  them,  no  kindly 
care  quicken  them  into  vitality.  They  were  dead,  and 
he  was  dead,  a  mere  dried-up  husk  of  a  man,  a  banned 
creature,  to  whom  hope  and  faith  and  the  bright  vi- 
sion of  a  new  career  were  ruthlessly  forbidden. 

At  last,  thinking  he  might  as  well  learn  the  scorch- 
ing truth  in  its  entirety,  he  turned  to  the  letter. 

It  was  undated ;  but  the  postmark  was  eloquent,  and 
it  began  with  strange  abruptness: 


Power  Driven  into  Wilderness        807 

"  So,  then,  Derry,  you  have  cast  me  off,  left  me  to  die ; 
for  I  shall  die  within  a  month,  or  less.  Well,  be  it  so. 
I  am  content.  If  such  is  the  woman's  lot,  of  what  avail 
to  cry  aloud  to  Heaven  that  it  is  unjust?  But,  if  ever 
you  come  to  realize  what  tortures  I  have  endured  while 
waiting  in  vain  for  the  answer  that  never  arrived,  surely 
you  will  pity  me.  I,  once  so  full  of  the  joy  of  life,  am 
humbled  to  the  dust.  Your  departure  from  Bison — for  my 
constant  friend  MacGonigal  has  told  me  of  your  going — 
robbed  me  of  my  last  frail  refuge.  Some  day,  perhaps,  you 
will  read  these  farewell  words  of  the  woman  who  loved 
you,  who  still  loves  you,  who  will  love  you  to  the  end,  whose 
last  prayer  will  be  for  you  and  not  for  herself.  Oh,  Derry, 
it  will  be  hard  to  pass  into  the  everlasting  night,  knowing 
that  you  and  I  shall  never  meet  again  on  this  side  of  the 
grave,  but  harder  still  to  deliver  into  the  keeping  of  one 
whom  I  loathe  the  living  memory  of  my  brief  happiness. 
It  may  not  be  so.  My  child  and  I  may  go  out  into  the 
darkness  together;  but  I  dare  not  petition  the  Most  High 
for  that  crowning  mercy.  Have  I  really  done  wrong.''  I 
cannot  decide,  but  grope  blindly  for  guidance.  If  I  am 
judged,  it  will  be  by  One  who  looks  into  the  heart,  and 
will  treat  an  erring  woman  with  divine  compassion  as  well 
as  justice.  But  you,  if  ever  you  see  what  I  am  setting 
down  here,  and  I  am  convinced  that  you  will,  even  though 
I  be  long  dead — what  of  you?  My  heart  aches  for  you. 
Can  I  give  you  any  message  of  healing  and  solace?  Yes, 
one.  If  my  child  lives — ah,  it  is  bitter  to  think  that  the 
mother's  eyes  will  be  glazing  in  death  when  they  see  her 
babe ! — I  charge  you  with  a  sacred  responsibility.  What  do 
I  mean?  I  cannot  tell  you.  I  am  fey  today.  I  peer  into 
a  dim  future.  I  only  know  that  I  shall  not  survive  my 
little  one's  birth,  and  that  some  day,  somehow,  you  will 
understand  that  which  is  hidden  from  my  ken  in  laying 


808  The  Termi  of  Surrender 

this  duty  upon  you.  And  that  way  will  come  consolation. 
Do  you  remember  how  I  used  to  hate  that  word  '  duty '  ? 
Yet  it  is  stronger  than  I.    It  compels  me,  even  now. 

**  Farewell,  Derry.  I  kiss  you,  in  a  waking  dream.  No 
matter  what  the  world  has  in  store  for  you — though  some 
other  fair  woman  may  quicken  into  life  because  of  you — 
though  men  may  honor  your  name  and  exalt  you  to  the 
high  places — you  will  never  forget  the  girl  you  once  held 
dear.  As  a  souvenir,  I  send  you  all  that  is  left  of  the 
bunch  of  white  heather  which  formed  my  wedding  bouquet. 
Did  you  see  it  that  day  when  you  hid  on  the  ledge,  and 
watched  the  triumphal  start  of  a  journey  which  has  led 
me  into  such  strange  places  and  is  now  to  end  so  soon  ? 
We  never  spoke  of  it  when  we  passed  the  long,  sunny  hours 
by  the  lake — dear  Heaven !  our  lake !  Would  that  its  bright 
waters  had  closed  over  my  head  then;  for  I  was  so  happy, 
and  so  much  in  love  with  you  and  the  world !  But  I  knew 
what  happened  on  that  June  day  in  the  Gulch,  for  I  could 
read  your  soul  mirrored  in  your  eyes;  so  now  I  give  you 
one  final  memento,  and  hug  the  belief  that  you  will  press  it 
to  your  lips.  My  poor  secret  dies  with  me,  perhaps.  I 
don't  imagine  that  the  man  whom  I  used  to  revere  as  a 
father  will  satisfy  an  unfathomable  spite  by  denying  my 
child  the  tending  and  luxury  it  will  receive  in  Hugh  Mar- 
ten's care.  I  could  write  reams  of  a  woman's  sad  longings, 
of  explanations  that  would  lead  nowhere;  but  I  dare  not 
trust  even  you,  else  you  would  deem  me  mad.  And  I  am 
not  mad,  only  woebegone  and  fearful,  for  the  night  cometh, 
and  I  shudder  at  its  silence  and  mystery.  So,  once  more, 
and  for  the  last  time,  farewell,  my  dear.  I  take  you  in 
my  arms.     I  cling  to  you,  even  in  death." 

The  unhappy  man  wilted  under  that  piteous  leave- 
taking.     He  felt  that  he  had  descended  into  a  tomb, 


Power  Driven  into  Wilderness        809 

and  was  listening  to  a  voice  speaking  in  dread  tones. 
The  thick  curtains  of  despair  closed  over  his  soul,  and 
he  seemed  to  be  falling  into  an  abyss.  He  heard  him- 
self uttering  a  broken  wail  of  protest;  for  it  was  borne 
in  on  him  that  Nancy's  heart-rending  message  had  riv- 
eted close  against  the  fetters  he  thought  to  have  left 
forever  amid  the  dun  recesses  of  the  Andes.  What  re- 
mained in  life  for  him?  What  could  there  be  of 
happiness  and  content,  with  the  dire  conviction  lodged 
immovably  in  heart  and  brain  that  Nancy,  like  his 
mother,  had  died  because  of  his  wrong-doing?  He  was 
caught  in  some  furious  and  fatal  maelstrom  which,  like 
that  fabled  whirlpool  of  the  North  Sea,  was  sweeping 
him,  in  ever-narrowing  circles,  to  irresistible  doom. 
The  marvel  is  that  his  mind  did  not  give  way;  but  a 
merciful  release  was  not  to  be  vouchsafed  in  that  man- 
ner, for  the  fantastic  laughter  of  lunacy  would  have 
been  kinder  than  the  blackness  of  darkness  which  now 
enwrapped  his  being.  In  that  hour  of  abasement  his 
spirit  capitulated.  Nothing  mattered.  He  was  crushed 
and  paralyzed.  He  could  not  pray,  because  it  did  not 
seem  as  though  there  was  One  who  gave  heed.  The 
bright  world  had  become  a  place  of  skulls,  a  charnel 
house,  a  prison  whose  iron  walls  were  closing  in  on 
him  eternally. 

It  was  a  strange  thing  that  he  did  not,  even  as  a 
passing  obsession,  think  of  terminating  the  dreary  pil- 
grimage of  life  then  and  there.  At  Bison,  during  the 
first  stupor  of  grief  after  his  mother's  death  and 
Nancy's  desertion,  he  had  pondered,  many  a  time,  the 
awful  problem  which  ever  presents  itself  to  men  of 
strong  will  and  resolute  purpose.    When  life  appears 


310  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

to  be  no  longer  worth  living  the  question  arises — why 
not  end  it?  But  seven  years  of  lonely  musing  had 
given  depth  and  solidity  to  his  nature.  Above  all,  he 
had  been  taught  to  endure.  He  had  come  now  to  a 
worse  pass  than  any  that  pierced  the  Andes;  for  an 
unending  desert  lay  in  front,  while  he  was  leaving  a 
fair  territory  in  which  lay  domestic  joys  and  a  love 
for  which  his  soul  hungered.  In  the  moment  when 
union  with  Marguerite  Sinclair  was  forbidden  so 
sternly  he  gaged  with  woeful  accuracy  the  extent  of 
his  longing  for  her  companionship.  He  understood, 
with  a  certainty  of  judgment  that  brooked  no  counter 
argument,  that  he  could  never  marry.  He  dared  not. 
If  that  which  Nancy  had  said  was  true,  he  would  surely 
kill  himself  in  a  paroxysm  of  loathing  and  self- 
accusation  when  any  other  woman's  kiss  was  still  hot 
on  his  lips. 

There  remained  a  task  not  to  be  shirked — he  must 
ascertain,  beyond  doubt,  that  Nancy  was  really  dead. 
Gathering  the  four  letters  in  whose  yellowing  sheets 
was  summarized  the  whole  story  of  his  wasted  life,  he 
placed  them  in  a  pocketbook.  In  doing  so,  he  hap- 
pened to  touch  the  case  containing  the  ring  he  had 
bought  for  Meg.  Oddly  enough,  that  simple  incident 
cost  him  the  sharpest  pang;  but  he  conquered  his  emo- 
tions, much  as  a  man  might  do  who  was  facing  un- 
avoidable death,  and  even  forced  his  trembling  fingers 
to  put  the  envelop  which  held  Nancy's  white  heather 
side  by  side  with  Marguerite's  diamonds.  Then  he 
went  out. 

An  old  time  acquaintance  in  Denver  with  the  ways 
of  journalism  led  him  to  the  nearest  newspaper  office. 


Power  Driven  into  Wilderness        311 

There  he  asked  to  be  taken  to  the  news  editor's  room, 
and  a  busy  man  looked  at  him  curiously  when  he  ex- 
plained that  he  wanted  to  know  whether  or  not  Mrs. 
Marten,  wife  of  Hugh  Marten,  was  living,  and,  if  dead, 
the  date  of  her  demise. 

There  was  something  in  Power's  manner  that  puz- 
zled the  journalist,  some  hint  of  tragedy  and  im- 
measurable loss,  but  he  was  courteously  explicit. 

"  You  mean  Hugh  Marten,  the  financier,  formerly 
of  Colorado  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"  Yes,  that  is  the  man." 

The  other  took  a  volume  from  a  shelf  of  biogra- 
phies, by  which  is  meant  the  newspaper  variety — 
typed  accounts  of  notable  people  still  living,  together 
with  newspaper  cuttings  referring  to  recent  events 
in  their  careers.  Soon  he  had  a  pencil  on  an 
entry. 

"  Yes,"  he  said.  "  Mrs.  Marten  has  been  dead 
nearly  seven  years." 

"  And  her  child?    Is  the  child  living?  " 

"  Yes.  Poor  lady !  She  died  in  giving  it  birth.  I 
remember  now.  It  was  a  very  sad  business.  Mrs. 
Marten  was  a  remarkably  beautiful  woman.  Her  hus- 
band was  inconsolable.  He  has  not  married  again ;  but 
is  devoted  to  his  little  daughter,  who,  by  the  way, 
was  named  after  her  mother — Nancy  Willard  Mar- 
ten. Ah,  of  course,  that  middle  name  reminds  me 
of  something  else.  Mrs.  Marten's  father,  Francis  Wil- 
lard, was  accidentally  shot  last  year." 

"Shot?" 

"  Yes.  He  was  summering  in  the  Adirondacks,  and 
was  out  after  duck;  but,  by  some  mischance,  caught 


312  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

a  trigger  when  crawling  through  a  clump  of  rushes, 
and  blew  the  top  of  his  head  off." 

"  He  was  near  a  lake,  then  ?  " 

"  Yes.  It  wasn't  Forked  Lake,  but  a  sheet  of  wa- 
ter in  the  hills  not  far  distant.  I  can  find  out  the 
exact  locality  if  you  wish  it." 

"  No,  thank  you.     I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you." 

"  No  trouble  at  all.  Sorry  I  hadn't  better  news, 
if  these  people  are  friends  of  yours." 

So  Willard  was  dead,  and  by  his  own  hand,  and  the 
scene  of  his  last  reckoning  was  the  lake  which  wit- 
nessed the  ignoble  revenge  he  had  wreaked  on  Power 
by  sacrificing  Nancy!  The  broken  man  bowed  his 
head  humbly.  He  had  been  scourged  with  whips ;  but 
his  sworn  enemy  had  been  chastised  with  scorpions. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

SHOWING  HOW  POWER  MET  A 
GUIDE 

If  a  man  be  harassed  too  greatly  by  outrageous 
fortune,  there  comes  a  time  when  he  will  defy  the 
oppressing  gods,  and  set  their  edicts  at  naught. 
Power's  temperament  fitted  him  for  sacrifice  carried 
far  beyond  the  common  limits  of  human  endurance; 
but  his  gorge  rose  against  this  latest  tyranny;  the 
recoil  from  bright  hope  to  darkest  despair  brought 
him  perilously  near  the  gulf.  Seated  in  his  room,  and 
reviewing  his  wrecked  life,  he  was  minded  then  and 
there  to  fling  himself  into  the  worst  dissipation  New 
York  could  off^er.  What  had  he  gained  by  his  self- 
imposed  penance,  his  exile,  and  his  unquestioning  ser- 
vice? No  monk  of  La  Trappe  had  disciplined  body 
and  soul  more  rigorously  than  he  during  seven  weary 
years ;  yet,  seemingly,  his  atonement  was  not  accepted, 
and  he  was  faced  now  by  a  decree  that  entailed  un- 
ending banishment.  Was  Providence,  then,  less  merci- 
ful than  man?  The  felon,  convicted  of  an  offense 
against  his  country's  laws,  was  better  treated  than 
he.  The  poor  wretch  released  from  prison  was  met 
at  the  gates  of  the  penitentiary  by  philanthropic  of- 
fer of  reinstatement  among  his  fellows;  but  for  the 
man  who  had  yielded  once  to  the  lure  of  a  woman's 
love    there   was,    apparently,    no    forgiveness.      Why 

313 


314}  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

should  he  accept  any  such  inexorable  ban?  He  was 
young,  as  men  regard  youth  in  these  days.  He  was 
rich.  The  wine  of  life  ran  red  in  his  veins.  Why 
should  he  fold  his  arms  and  bend  his  head,  and  say 
with  the  meek  Jesuit  whose  moldering  bones  had  har- 
bored that  beautiful  volume  lying  there  in  its  leather 
covering,  "  Fiat  voluntas  Tua!  " 

That  hour  of  revolt  was  the  bitterest  in  Power's 
existence.  Like  Jacob,  he  wrestled  with  a  too  potent 
adversary,  and,  refusing  to  yield,  asked  for  a  curse 
rather  than  a  blessing;  for  he  thought  he  was  striving 
against  a  fiend.  Fortunately,  he  underestimated  his 
own  strength.  Some  men,  he  knew,  would  have  tossed 
every  record  of  the  past  into  the  fire,  and  married 
the  woman  of  their  choice  without  other  than  a  mo- 
mentary qualm  of  conscience.  That  course,  to  him, 
was  a  sheer  impossibility.  While  the  dead  Nancy  and 
her  living  child  stood  in  the  gates  of  Eden,  and  option 
lay  only  between  wedding  Marguerite  Sinclair  and 
blowing  out  his  brains,  he  would  die  unhesitatingly. 
But,  if  he  continued  to  live,  what  was  the  outlook  .f^ 
Wine,  women — debauchery,  lewdness?  His  soul  sick- 
ened at  the  notion.  He  laughed,  with  bitter  humor, 
while  picturing  himself  a  roue,  a  "  sport,"  an  opulent 
supporter  of  musical  comedy — especially  with  regard 
to  its  frailer  exponents — a  lounger  in  "  fashionable  " 
resorts.  No;  that  was  not  the  way  out  of  the  maze, 
if  ever  a  way  might  be  found. 

It  was  a  sign  of  returning  sanity  that  he  should  fill 
his  pipe.  As  the  German  proverb  has  it,  "  God  first 
made  man,  and  then  He  made  woman;  then,  feeling 
sorry  for  man,  He  made  tobacco."     Power  continued 


Showing  How  Power  Met  a  Guide    315 

to  sit  there  smoking,  lost  in  troubled  but  more  hum- 
bled thought,  until  a  chambermaid  entered  the  room. 
He  had  kept  no  count  of  time,  and  had  evidently 
passed  many  hours  in  somber  musing;  for  the  apart- 
ment was  in  semidarkness,  and  the  girl  started  when 
she  caught  sight  of  the  solitary  figure  sunk  in  the 
depths  of  an  armchair. 

"  My  land  I  "  she  cried,  "  but  you  made  me  jump!  " 
Then,  aware  that  this  was  not  precisely  the  manner 
of  address  expected  by  patrons  of  the  Waldorf-Astoria, 
she  added  hurriedly,  "  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir.  I 
didn't  know  you  were  in.    Shall  I  switch  on  the  light?  " 

"  Can  you?  "  he  said. 

"  Why,  of  course,  I  can.    There  you  are !  " 

The  room  was  suddenly  illuminated.  Power  rose  and 
stretched  his  limbs — he  felt  as  if  he  had  marched  many 
miles  carrying  a  heavy  load. 

"  Like  others  of  your  sex,  you  work  miracles,  then," 
he  said. 

One  glance  at  his  face,  and  the  housemaid  regained 
confidence.  "  Yes,  if  it  is  a  miracle  to  touch  a  switch," 
she  answered  pertly. 

"  Nothing  more  wonderful  was  done  when  the  world 
was  created.  *  Let  there  be  light :  and  there  was  light.' 
You  have  read  the  first  chapter  of  Genesis,  I  am  sure?  " 

"  Yes,  and  the  second." 

"  Good !  Stop  there,  if  you  would  rest  thoroughly 
content.  The  serpent  lifts  his  head  in  the  third.  Will 
you  kindly  send  the  valet?  " 

The  girl  confided  to  her  fellow-servants  in  the 
service-room  that  the  gentleman  in  Number  So-and-so 
was  very  nice,  but  slightly  cracked.     He  seemed  to 


316  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

have  been  upset  by  a  lot  of  old  letters — and  it  was 
an  odd  thing  that  among  all  the  rich  people  who 
lived  in  the  hotel  none  seemed  to  be  really  happy.  Now, 
if  she,  deponent,  only  possessed  a  fraction  of  their 
wealth,  she  would  enjoy  life  to  the  limit. 

Power  did  not  change  his  attire  that  evening.  He 
dined  quietly  in  the  restaurant,  and  strolled  out  into 
Broadway  afterward.  The  loneliness  of  a  great  city, 
at  first  so  repellent,  was  grateful  to  him  now.  The 
crowded  streets  were  more  democratic  than  the  pala- 
tial saloons  of  the  hotel,  the  air  more  breathable.  But 
the  flood  of  light  in  the  Great  White  Way — 
though  blazing  then  with  a  subdued  magnificence  as 
compared  with  its  bewildering  luster  nowadays — was 
garish  and  harsh,  and  he  turned  into  the  sheltering 
gloom  of  a  quiet  side-street.  He  was  passing  a  row 
of  red-stone  houses — ^bay-windowed,  austere  abodes, 
with  porches  surmounting  steep  flights  of  broad  steps 
— ^when  he  saw  an  old,  old  man  seated  at  the  foot  of 
one  of  these  outer  stairways.  In  summer,  at  that  hour, 
every  step  would  be  occupied  by  people  gasping  for 
fresh,  cool  air ;  but  in  the  depth  of  winter  it  was  court- 
ing disease  and  death  for  anyone,  especially  the  aged, 
to  seek  such  repose. 

The  unusual  spectacle  stirred  Power  out  of  his 
mournful  self-communing. 

"Are  you  ill?"  he  said,  halting  in  front  of  the 
patriarch. 

"  No,  sorr,"  came  the  cheerful  answer,  and  a  worn, 
deeply  lined  face  was  raised  to  his  with  a  smile  that 
banished  the  ravages  of  time  as  sunlight  gilds  a  ruin. 
A  street-lamp  was  near,  and  its  rays  fell  on  features 


Showing  Hoxo  Power  Met  a  Guide    317 

which  had  once  been  strong  and  massive,  but  were  now 
mellowed  into  the  rare  beauty  of  hale  and  kindly  age. 
Silvery  hair,  still  plentiful,  and  dark,  keen  eyes  from 
which  gleamed  the  intelligence  and  sympathy  every 
clean-souled  man  may  hope  to  gain  if  his  years  stretch 
beyond  the  span  allotted  by  the  prophet,  made  up  a 
personality  which  would  have  appealed  to  an  artist 
in  search  of  a  model. 

"  But  you  are  taking  a  great  risk  by  sitting  on  cold 
stone,"  persisted  Power. 

"  Sure,  sorr,  av  it's  the  will  o'  God  that  I  should 
die  that  way,  it's  as  good  as  anny  other,"  said  the 
ancient.  "All  doores  ladin'  to  the  next  worruld  are 
pretty  much  the  same  to  me.  I  don't  care  which 
wan  I  take  so  long  as  it  lades  me  safe  into  Purgathory." 

Never  before  had  Power  heard  so  modest  a  claim 
on  the  benevolence  of  the  Almighty. 

"Are  you  tired  of  life,  then?  "  he  asked. 

"  Sorra  a  bit  am  I!  Why  should  I  be?  Wouldn't 
it  be  flyin'  in  the  face  o'  Providence  to  say  that  I  was 
tired  of  the  sivinty-eight  grand  years  I've  spint  in 
raisonable  happiness  an'  the  best  o'  health." 

"  I  like  your  philosophy.  It  has  the  right  ring. 
But  it  can  hardly  be  the  will  of  God  that  you  should 
shorten  the  remainder  of  those  years  by  resting  on 
a  doorstep  in  this  weather." 

"  Young  man,"  said  the  other  suddenly,  "  how  old 
are  ye  ?  " 

"  Thirty-five." 

"  Thorty-f oive  is  it  ?  An'  ye  stand  there  an'  talk 
as  though  ye'd  just  come  down  like  Moses  from  the  top 
o'  Mount  Sinai,  an'  had  the  worrd  o'  the  Lord  nately 


318  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

written  in  yer  pocketbook.  Sure,  thim  days  is  past 
entirely.  God  doesn't  talk  to  His  sarvints  anny  longer 
in  that  way." 

"  Tell  me,  then,  how  does  He  talk?  " 

"  Faix,  sorr,  I'm  on'y  a  poor  ould  man,  an'  it's  not 
for  the  likes  o'  me  to  insthruct  a  gintleman  like  you; 
but,  av  I'm  not  greatly  mistaken,  you've  heard  His 
voice  more  than  wance  or  twice  in  yer  life  already, 
an'  yer  own  heart  '11  tell  you  betther  than  I  can  what 
it  sounds  like." 

"  Friend,  your  eyes  are  clearer  than  mine.  Still, 
it  will  please  me  if  you  get  up,  and  let  me  walk  a 
little  way  with  you.  Or,  if  you  don't  feel  a,ble  to 
walk,  allow  me  to  take  you  to  your  destination  in 
a  cab." 

His  new  acquaintance  rose,  nimbly  enough.  Then 
Power  saw  that  he  had  been  using  a  bundle  of  news- 
papers as  a  cushion. 

"A  cab,  is  it?"  laughed  the  other.  "My!  but 
money  must  come  aisy  your  road,  a  thing  it  'ud  niv- 
ver  do  for  me,  thry  as  I  might,  an'  I  was  a  hard 
worrker  in  me  time.  But  I'd  sooner  walk.  I'm  feelin' 
a  thrifle  shtiif,  an'  I  haven't  far  to  go." 

"  May  I  come  with  you  ?  " 

"  Ye  may,  an'  welcome.  It's  a  mighty  pleasant 
thing  to  have  a  fri'ndly  chat  wid  a  man  who  has  sinse 
enough  to  wear  fine  clo'es  an'  talk  like  the  aristocracy, 
an'  yet  not  be  ashamed  to  be  seen  sp'akin'  to  wan  o' 
my  sort." 

"  Will  you  think  it  rude  if  I  inquire  what  you  mean 
to  do  with  those  newspapers?  Surely,  at  your  age, 
you  don't  sell  them  in  the  streets." 


Showing  How  Power  Met  a  Guide    319 

"  Faith,  I'll  have  to  thry  my  hand  at  it  now,  an' 
no  mistake.  Me  grandson,  Jimmy  Maguire,  was  run 
over  this  afthernoon  by  an  express  van,  an'  he's  up 
there  at  the  hospital  in  West  16th  Street.  Jimmy  is 
all  that  is  left  betune  me  an'  the  wall,  an'  I'm  goin' 
now  to  give  in  his  returns.  Mebbe  the  newspaper  folk 
will  let  me  hould  his  stand  till  the  docthors  sind  him 
out." 

"And  if  they  don't?" 

"  Sure,  sorr,  God  is  good  to  the  poor  Irish." 

"  I  hope  so,  most  sincerely.  Still,  a  newspaper  is 
a  commercial  enterprise,  and  the  publisher  may  think 
you  unequal  to  the  job.     What  then.'*  " 

"  Thin  ?  I'd  take  a  reef  in  me  belt  for  breakfast, 
an'  spind  a  p'aceful  hour  in  the  cathaydral,  that 
dhrame  in  shtone  up  there  on  Fifth  Avenue.  Don't 
ye  remimber  that  verse  in  the  Psalms,  *  I  have  been 
young,  and  now  am  old ;  yet  have  I  not  seen  the  right- 
eous forsaken  nor  his  seed  begging  bread.'  Manny's 
the  toime  thim  worrds  have  consoled  me  whin  ivery- 
thing  looked  black,  an'  I  was  throubled  wid  quare 
thoughts,  bein'  nigh  famishin'  wid  hunger." 

"  Have  you  actually  wanted  food — here,  in  this 
great  city  ?  " 

The  old  fellow  laughed  merrily.  Evidently,  he  found 
the  question  humorous. 

"  Sure,  I've  had  the  misforchunes  of  Job,"  he  said. 
"  First,  I  lost  me  darlin'  wife.  Thin  I  lost  me  job 
as  a  buildher's  foreman.  I  had  two  sons,  and  wan  was 
dhrowned  at  say,  an'  the  other  was  killed  in  a 
mine " 

"  In  a  mine.?     What  sort  of  mine?  " 


320  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

"  A  gold  mine,  at  a  place  called  Bison,  in  Colorado." 

"When?" 

**  Nine  years  ago  last  Christmas  ?  " 

"  Was  his  name  Maguire  ?  " 

"  No,  sorr — Rafferty,  A  foine,  upshtandin'  boy  he 
was,  too." 

Power  recalled  the  incident.  Indeed,  he  had  helped 
to  clear  the  rockfall  which  crushed  the  life  out  of 
the  unfortunate  miner.  But  he  gave  no  sign  of  his 
knowledge. 

"Why  is  your  grandson  named  Maguire?"  he 
went  on. 

"  He  is  my  daughther's  son,  an'  she  died  in  child- 
birth. More's  the  pity,  because  Maguire  was  a  dacint 
man;  but  he  took  to  the  dhrink  afther  she  was  gone, 
an'  that  was  the  ind  of  him." 

"  Yet  you  are  a  firm  believer  in  the  goodness  of 
Providence,  notwithstanding  all  these  cruel  blows  ?  " 

"  Musha,  sorr,"  said  Rafferty  anxiously,  "  have  ye 
nivver  read  the  Book  o'  Job?  Look  at  the  thrials  an' 
crosses  put  on  that  poor  ould  craythur,  an'  where 
would  he  have  been  if  the  thrue  faith  wasn't  in  him?  " 

"  Rafferty,  I  would  give  ten,  years  of  my  life  to 
believe  as  you  believe." 

"  Indade,  sorr,  ye  needn't  give  tin  minutes.  Go  home 
to  yer  room,  an'  sink  down  on  your  marrowbones,  an' 
ax  for  help  an'  guidance,  an'  they'll  be  given  you  as 
sure  as  the  sun  will  rise  tomorrow.  Though,  moind 
ye,  ye  mayn't  know  it  all  at  wance,  just  as  it  may  be 
rainin'  tomorrow,  when  the  sun  will  be  hid;  but  he'll 
be  shinin'  high  up  in  the  sky  for  all  that." 

The  two  crossed  Sixth  Avenue  together,  and  Raf- 


Showing  How  Power  Met  a  Guide    321 

ferty  pointed  to  a  big  building,  a  place  ablaze  with 
light  and  quivering  with  the  activities  of  six-decker 
printing  machines. 

"  That's  where  I'm  goin',"  he  said.  "  Maybe  they'll 
detain  me  some  toime." 

"  Before  we  part,  my  friend,  tell  me  where  you  live." 

"  Away  over  in  the  poorest  part  o'  Twinty-sivinth 
Street,  sorr." 

"  And  how  old  is  your  grandson?  " 

"  He'll  be  eleven  next  birthday." 

"  Is  he  seriously  injured?  " 

Then  tears  came  into  the  old  man's  eyes.  For  once 
his  splendid  courage  wavered. 

"  They  wouldn't  tell  me  at  the  hospital,  an'  that's 
the  truth,  sorr;  but  a  polisman  who  helped  to  pull 
him  from  undher  the  wagon  said  he  thought  he  had 
escaped  the  worrst." 

"  Are  you  and  Jimmy  known  to  any  of  the  priests 
at  the  cathedral?" 

"  Sure,  sorr,  don't  they  all  know  us  ?  I  remimber 
Canon  M'Evoy  comin'  there  twinty-foive  years  ago." 

"  And  now,  Rafferty,  as  one  friend  to  another,  will 
you  let  me  help  you?  " 

"  Musha,  an'  is  it  beggin'  you  think  I  am?  "  and  a 
gleam  of  Celtic  fire  shone  through  the  mist  of  anguish. 

"  No.  But  you  have  given  me  good  counsel  tonight, 
and  I  am  minded  to  pay  for  it." 

"  Faith,  I  haven't  said  a  worrd  that  isn't  plain  for 
all  min,  an'  women,  too,  to  read,  if  they  have  a  moind 
to  look  for  it  in  the  right  place." 

"  Sometimes  one  needs  reminding  of  that,  and  you 
have  done  it.    Come,  now.    Let  me  finance  you  with  a 


322  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

few  dollars,  just  to  carry  you  along  till  Jimmy  is 
around  again." 

Rafferty  drew  a  knotted  hand  across  his  eyes,  and 
then  peered  keenly  into  Power's  face.  What  he  saw 
there  seemed  to  reassure  him. 

"  Well,  an'  it's  me  that's  the  lucky  man,  an'  no  mis- 
take !  "  he  cried,  while  whole-hearted  joy  seemed  to  make 
him  young  again.  "  I'll  take  your  help  in  the  spirit 
it's  offered  in,  sorr.  If  the  situation  was  revarsed, 
I'd  do  what  I  could  for  you,  because  you  have  the 
look  av  a  man  who'd  do  unto  others  that  which  he 
wants  others  to  do  unto  him.  An',  by  that  same  token, 
I've  as  much  chance  av  gettin'  Jimmy's  stand  wid  the 
papers  as  I  have  av  bein'  run  for  Prisident  av  the 
United  States  next  fall" 

Power  took  a  folded  note  from  his  pocketbook. 

"  Put  that  where  the  cat  can't  get  it,"  he  said. 
"  And  now  goodby,  and  thank  you." 

But  something  unusual  in  the  aspect  of  the  note 
caused  Rafferty  to  open  it. 

"  Sure,  an'  you  were  nearly  committin'  a  terrible 
blundher !  "  he  cried  excitedly.  "  This  is  a  hundred 
dollars,  sorr,  an'  you'd  be  m'anin',  mebbe,  to  give  me 
a  foive." 

"  No.  Don't  be  vexed  with  me,  but  that  amount  of 
money  will  make  things  easy  during  the  next  month 
or  so." 

"  The  next  month !  Glory  be  to  God,  I  can  live  like 
a  prince  for  three  months,  on  a  hundred  dollars !  " 

**  I  firmly  believe  that  you  will  live  better  than  most 
princes.  ...  That's  right.  Stow  it  away  carefully, 
and  don't  forget  that  I  am  still  your  debtor." 


Showing  How  Power  Met  a  Guide    323 

"Why,  sorr,  I  can  nivver  repay  you  as  long  as  I 
live." 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  can.  Remember  me  when  you  go 
to  the  cathedral  tomorrow." 

"  Sorr,  may  I  ax  yer  name?  " 

"  Power — John  Darien  Power." 

"  Arrah,  an'  are  ye  Irish?" 

«  No." 

"  'Tis  an  Irish  name,  annyhow.  But  it  matthers  lit- 
tle what  nation  ye  belong  to.  You're  a  rale  Christian, 
an'  'tis  writ  in  your  face." 

"  There  have  been  times  when  I  would  have  doubted 
that;  but  the  spirit  of  God  has  been  abroad  in  New 
York  tonight,  and,  perhaps,  it  has  descended  on  me. 
Once  more,  goodby!  I  needn't  wish  you  content,  be- 
cause you  cinched  that  long  ago." 

"  Ah,  sorr,  may  Hivin  bless  ye !  Manny's  the  heart 
you'll  make  light  in  this  vale  av  tears,  or  I'm  no  judge 
av  a  man." 

It  seemed  to  Power's  overwrought  imagination  as 
though  Rafferty  had  suddenly  assumed  the  guise  and 
bearing  of  a  supernatural  being.  Those  concluding 
words  rang  in  his  ears  as  he  hurried  away.  They  had 
the  sound  of  a  message,  an  exhortation.  The  iron 
walls  which  appeared  to  encircle  him  had  been  cast 
down.  His  ,feet  were  set  on  an  open  road,  fair  and 
inviting,  and  he  cared  not  whither  it  led  so  long  as 
he  escaped  from  the  prison  in  which  his  soul  might 
have  been  pent  eternally. 

Diving  through  a  press  of  traffic,  he  reached  the 
opposite  side  of  a  small  square.  A  congestion  of  street- 
cars and  other  vehicles  cleared  during  a  brief  interval, 


324  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

and,  looking  back,  he  saw  the  old  man  standing  mo- 
tionless, gazing  up  at  the  sky.  At  that  instant  a 
ragged  urchin,  carrying  a  bundle  of  papers,  seemed 
to  recognize  RafFerty,  and  spoke  to  him. 

The  Irishman,  called  back  to  earth,  bent  over  the 
youth,  and,  evidently  obeying  a  generous  impulse, 
added  his  own  store  of  "  returns  "  to  those  of  the  boy, 
patted  him  on  the  head,  and  pointed  to  a  doorway. 

Power  could  have  repeated  with  tolerable  accuracy 
every  word  that  passed,  though  the  notable  din  of  New 
York  was  quadrupled  in  that  particular  locality : 

"Say,  how's  Jimmy,  Mr.  Rafferty?  " 

"  Eh?  Faix,  he's  mighty  bad,  but  God  is  good,  and 
mebbe  he'll  recover.  Is  it  takin'  in  yer  returns  ye 
are?  Well,  now,  here's  some  I  don't  want;  so  just  add 
thim  to  yer  own  shtock,  an'  mind  ye'll  be  afther  takin' 
the  money  to  yer  mother.  She  needs  it  more'n  I  do, 
the  poor  sowl." 

Then  the  man  of  faith  recrossed  Sixth  Avenue,  and 
was  lost  to  sight. 

In  his  room  that  night  Power  wrote  to  Marguerite ; 

"  My  dear  Meg. — This  is  my  first  and  last  letter  to  you ; 
so  I  pray  you  read  it  with  sympathy.  Today  I  bought  a 
ring  at  a  jeweler's  intending  it  to  be  a  token  of  our  prom- 
ised marriage.  I  am  sending  the  ring,  and  I  ask  you  to 
wear  it  in  remembrance  of  one  who  must  remain  forever 
dead  to  you.  The  life  of  happiness  we  planned  has  turned 
to  Dead  Sea  fruit;  for  I  have  been  struck  by  a  bolt  from 
Heaven,  and  marriage  becomes  an  impossibility.  I  would 
explain  myself  more  clearly  if  explanation  were  not  an 
insult.  But  I  must  say  this — no  man  could  have  foreseen 
the  calamity  which  has  befallen  me,  which  has  laid  in  wait 


Showing  How  Power  Met  a  Guide    325 

throughout  the  long  years  to  overwhelm  me  at  last.  That 
is  all  I  dare  tell  you.  Forgive  me,  dear  one.  I  would 
not  willingly  cause  you  a  pang;  but  Fate  is  stronger  than 
I,  and  I  am  vanquished.  Do  you  know  me  well  enough 
to  accept  this  statement  in  its  crude  truth }  It  cannot  be 
gainsaid,  it  cannot  be  altered,  time  itself  cannot  assuage 
its  rigors.  Do  not  write  to  me.  I  have  no  fear  of  reproach, 
which  would  never  come  from  your  dear  lips,  but  your 
strong,  brave  words  would  wring  my  very  heartstrings. 
And  yet,  I  love  you,  and  will  grieve  till  the  end  that  you 
should  have  been  reft  from  me.  Farewell,  then,  my  dear 
one. 

Next  morning  he  paid  a  visit  to  the  clergy-house 
connected  with  the  cathedral  on  Fifth  Avenue.  He 
asked  a  priest  who  received  him  if  anything  was  known 
of  an  old  man  named  Rafferty,  who  lived  on  West  27th 
Street,  and  had  a  grandson  named  Maguire. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  ecclesiastic.  "  I  know  RafFerty 
well,  and  esteem  him  most  highly.  In  all  New  York 
there  is  no  more  God-fearing  man." 

Power  smiled.     "Fearing.?"  he  questioned. 

"  Well,  I  accept  the  correction.  *  Serving,'  I  should 
have  said." 

"  And  he  really  exists  ?  " 

"Undoubtedly.     Why  do  you  ask?" 

"  I  fancied  that,  perhaps,  the  age  of  miracles  had 
not  passed." 

"Who  says  it  has?" 

"  Not  I.  But  I  come  here  for  a  specific  purpose. 
I  mean  to  provide  Rafferty  with  the  sum  of  fifteen 
dollars  weekly  while  he  lives,  and,  if  his  grandson  re- 
covers   from    an    accident   he   sustained   yesterday,   la 


326  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

further  sum  sufficient  to  maintain,  clothe,  and  educate 
the  boy  until  he  is  taught  a  trade.  My  banker  will 
co-operate  in  a  trust  for  this  purpose.  Will  you,  or 
one  of  your  brotherhood,  act  with  him.'*  " 

Thus  it  came  to  pass  that  RafFerty,  like  Job,  was 
more  prosperous  in  the  end  than  in  the  beginning,  and 
died  when  he  was  "  old  and  full  of  days  " ;  but  he  had 
lived  five  long  years  to  bless  the  name  of  his  benefactor. 

That  evening  Power  took  train  to  the  West.  He 
prepared  MacGonigal  for  his  coming  by  a  telegram, 
never  thinking  that  an  event  which  lay  in  the  cate- 
gory of  common  things  for  him  meant  something  akin 
to  an  earthquake  at  Bison.  He  was  enlightened  when 
a  brass  band,  "  headed  by  the  mayor  and  a  deputation 
of  influential  citizens  "  (see  Rocky  Mountain  News  of 
current  date)  met  him  at  Bison  station,  where  an  ad- 
dress of  welcome  was  read,  the  while  MacGonigal  and 
Jake  beamed  on  a  cheering  multitude.  At  first  Power 
was  astonished  and  secretly  annoyed ;  then  he  could  not 
help  but  yield  to  the  genuine  heartiness  of  this  civic 
welcome,  which  contrasted  so  markedly  with  his  last 
dismal  home-coming.  He  made  a  modest  speech,  ex- 
pressing his  real  surprise  at  the  community's  progress, 
and  promising  not  to  absent  himself  again  for  so  long  a 
period. 

Then  he  was  escorted  in  a  triumphal  procession  to 
the  ranch.  It  was  the  organizers'  intent  that  he  should 
sit  In  an  opep  carriage  in  solitary  state,  in  order  that 
thousands  of  people  who  had  never  seen  him  should 
feast  their  eyes  on  "  the  man  who  made  Bison,"  while 
it  was  felt  that,  if  he  were  not  distracted  by  conversa- 
tion, he  would  give  more  heed  to  local  marvels  in  the 


Showing  How  Power  Met  a  Guide    327 

shape  of  trolley-cars,  a  town  hall,  a  public  library, 
a  "  Mary  Power  "  institute,  and  a  whole  township  of 
new  avenues  and  streets. 

But  he  declined  emphatically  to  fall  in  with  this 
arrangement,  and,  if  his  subconscious  mind  were  not 
dwelling  on  less  transient  matters,  might  have  been 
much  amused  by  noting  how  MacGonigal,  Jake,  and 
the  mayor  (a  man  previously  unknown  to  him)  shared 
the  honors  of  the  hour.  Nothing  could  have  proved 
more  distasteful  personally  than  this  joyous  home- 
coming; yet  he  went  through  the  ordeal  with  a  quiet 
dignity  that  added  to  his  popularity.  For,  singularly 
enough,  he  had  not  been  forgotten  or  ignored  in  Bison. 
MacGonigal,  the  leader  of  every  phase  of  local  ac- 
tivity, never  spoke  in  public  that  he  did  not  refer  to 
"  our  chief  citizen,  John  Darien  Power,"  and  his  name 
and  personality  figured  in  all  matters  effecting  the 
town's  rapid  development. 

He  was  deeply  touched  when  he  found  the  ranch 
exactly  as  he  had  left  it.  He  imagined  that  Jake  and 
his  family  were  living  there ;  but  the  overseer  had  built 
himself  a  fine  house  close  at  hand,  and  the  Dolores 
homestead  was  altered  in  no  respect,  save  that  it 
seemed  to  have  shrunk  somewhat,  owing  to  the  growth 
of  the  surrounding  trees  and  shrubberies. 

When,  at  last,  he  and  MacGonigal  were  left  together 
in  the  room  which  was  so  intimately  associated  with 
vital  happenings  in  his  career,  his  stout  partner  brought 
off  a  remark  which  the  ordered  ceremony  of  the  rail- 
road depot  had  not  permitted. 

"  Wall,  ef  I  ain't  dog-goned  glad  ter  see  ye  ag'in, 
Derry !  "  he  said,  holding  forth  a  fat  fist  for  another 


828  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

handshake.  "  But  whar  on  airth  did  ye  bury  yerself  ? 
Between  yer  friend  Mr.  Dacre  an'  meself,  the  hull 
blame  world  was  searched  fer  news  of  you;  but  you 
couldn't  hev  vanished  more  completely  ef  Jonah's  whale 
had  swallered  you,  or  you'd  been  carried  up  to  Heaven 
in  a  fiery  chariot  like  Elijah." 

"  Hello,  Mac !  "  cried  Power,  eying  his  elderly  com- 
panion with  renewed  interest.  "  Whence  this  Bib- 
lical flavor  in  your  speech?  Have  you  taken  a  much- 
needed  religious  turn?  " 

"  It's  fer  example,  an'  that's  a  fac',  Derry.  Sence 
you  boosted  me  inter  bein'  a  notorious  char-ac-ter,  I've 
kind  o'  lived  up  ter  specification.  Thar's  no  gettin' 
away  from  it.  Ye  can't  deal  out  prizes  to  a  row  o' 
shiny-faced  kids  in  a  Sunday-school  without  larnin' 
some  of  the  stock  lingo,  an'  bits  of  it  stick.  But  don't 
let's  talk  about  me.  I  want  ter  hear  about  you.  Whar 
hev  you  been  ?  " 

"  It's  a  long  story,  Mac,  and  will  take  some  telling. 
Just  now,  looking  around  at  this  room  and  its  fa- 
miliar objects^  my  mind  goes  back  through  the  years. 
What  did  you  say  to  Nancy  when  she  wrote  and  asked 
what  had  become  of  me  ?  " 

MacGonigal,  who  had  made  quite  a  speech  at  the 
reception,  and  had  been  unusually  long-winded  during 
the  drive,  reverted  suddenly  to  earlier  habit. 

"  Who's  been  openin'  old  sores  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"  No  one.  Nancy  wrote  to  me  before  she  died. 
That  is  all." 

"  Look-a  here,  Derry,  why  not  leave  it  at  that?  " 

"  Unhappily,  I  cannot  do  otherwise.  But  I  have  a 
right  to  know  exactly  what  happened." 


Showing  How  Power  Met  a  Guide    329 

"  It  wasn't  such  a  heap.  She  cabled  an'  wrote,  an' 
I  had  to  tell  her  you  was  plumb  crazy  about — about 
yer  mother's  death.  That  was  the  on'y  reason  I  could 
hand  out  fer  your  disappearin'  act.  Pore  thing !  Soon 
after  she  got  my  letter  she  gev  in  her  own  checks." 

"Have  you  met  Marten  recently?" 

"  He  was  in  Denver  last  fall." 

"  And  the  child — the  little  girl — did  you  see  her?  " 

"  Yep.  Gosh,  Derry,  she's  as  like  her  mother  as 
two  peas  in  a  pod." 

"  Is  Marten  fond  of  her?  " 

"  Derry,  that  kid  kin  twist  him  round  her  little 
finger ;  but  he's  a  hard  man  ter  move  any  other  way." 

"  Where  does  he  live?  " 

"  In  Europe,  fer  the  most  part.  He's  out  of  mines 
an'  rails — in  the  West,  anyhow.  Last  I  heerd,  he  was 
puttin'  through  a  state  loan  fer  the  I-talians." 

"  Quite  an  international  financier,  eh?  " 

"  That's  what  the  papers  call  him.  Guess  it's 
Shakespeare's  English  fer  a  dog-goned  shark." 

"You  know  Willard  is  dead?" 

"  Know !  Didn't  I  celebrate  with  a  school-treat  fer 
two  thousand  kids  ?  " 

"  Mac !  Haven't  they  taught  you  better  than  that 
at  your  Sunday-schools?  " 

"  Thar's  a  proverb  about  skinnin'  a  Rooshan  an' 
findin'  a  Tartar.  That's  me,  all  the  time,  when  any 
any  of  that  bunch  shows  up  on  the  screen.  What  d'ye 
think  Marten  kem  to  Denver  for?  " 

"  I  can't  imagine." 

"  He  wanted  ter  buy  the  ranch.  No,  not  the  mine," 
for   MacGonigal  misread   the   amazement  in   Power's 


330  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

face,  "just  the  ranch.  Said  he  was  anxious  for  little 
Nancy  to  own  the  property  whar  her  mother  lived  as 
a  gal." 

"  And  what  did  you  say — or  do  ?  " 

"  Handed  him  a  joint  straight  outer  the  refrig- 
erator, all  fixed  with  mustard.  '  Marten,'  says  I,  just 
like  that,  *  Marten,  ef  you  want  yer  little  gal  ter  grow 
up  good  an'  happy,  don't  let  her  suspicion  thar's  such 
a  place  as  Dolores  on  the  map.  *  Why  ?  '  says  he, 
lookin'  black  as  thunder.  '  Because,'  says  I,  *  it's  well 
named  when  thar's  one  of  the  Willard  family  on  the 
location.  Ef  any  children  kin  play  around  here  an' 
be  happy,  they'll  be  Derry  Power's,  not  yours.  Sorry, 
Derry,  ef  ye  didn't  wish  me  ter  rile  him ;  but,  till  you 
was  given  up  fer  good,  the  one  spot  in  Colorado  his 
money  couldn't  buy  was  this  yer  house  an'  land." 

And  again  did  MacGonigal  fail  to  interpret  his  hear- 
er's expression,  nor  did  he  ever  understand  the  tragic 
import  of  his  words.  The  story  of  Nancy's  trans- 
gression was  buried  with  her,  and  the  grave  seldom 
gives  up  its  secrets.  Moreover,  was  she  not  nearly 
seven  years  dead?  And  seven  years  of  death  count  in 
the  scale  of  forgetfulness  as  against  seventy  and  seven 
of  Hfe. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 
THE  SECOND  GENERATION 

Marguerite  Sinclair  did  not  write.  Perhaps, 
tucked  away  in  a  corner  of  Power's  heart,  a  tender 
little  shoot  of  hope  that  she  might  be  moved  to  dis- 
obedience and  revolt  blossomed  for  awhile.  But  it 
soon  withered.  She  did  not  break  the  silence  he  had 
imposed  on  her.  The  quiet  weeks  passed.  The  vessel 
in  which  the  girl  and  her  father  had  traveled  to  Lon- 
don had  already  returned  to  South  America ;  but  never 
a  word  came  from  Marguerite.  So  far  as  externals 
went,  Power  seemed  to  have  settled  down  again  to  the 
life  of  the  student  and  the  recluse  from  which  he 
had  been  so  rudely  withdrawn.  Beyond  a  rearrange- 
ment with  Jake,  whereby  that  pillar  of  the  community 
was  given  the  stock-raising  business,  while  Power  re- 
tained only  the  ranch,  together  with  the  paddocks  and 
orchards  in  its  immediate  vicinity,  there  was  no  change 
in  affairs  at  Bison.  MacGonigal  was  offered  a  con- 
trolling interest  in  the  mine ;  but  he  scoffed  at  the  pro- 
posal. The  proceeds  of  his  third  share  would  amount 
to  nearly  quarter  of  a  million  dollars  for  the  current 
year,  and  his  personal  expenditure  did  not  exceed  a 
fifth  of  that  sum. 

"  It's  the  Scot  blood  in  me,"  he  explained,  when 
people  rallied  him  as  to  his  saving  habits.  "  My  great- 
grandfather lost  a  sixpence  one  day  in  Belfast,  an'  the 

831 


332  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

family  has  been  makin'  good  ever  sence.  Thar  ain't 
no  sixpences  here;  so  I  run  a  dime  bank.  Another 
thing,"  and  his  bulging  eyes  challenged  dispute,  "  it's 
a  bully  fine  notion  ter  let  well  enough  alone.  This  yer 
proposition  is  goin'  along  0.  K.     Let  her  rip !  " 

Power,  of  course,  was  accumulating  wealth  with 
every  turn  of  the  rolls  in  the  reduction  mills.  The 
name  of  the  mine  became  a  standing  joke  in  Colorado. 
"What  price  the  El  Pre9o  outfit?"  men  would  say, 
and  spoke  with  bated  breath  of  the  millions  it  would 
bring  in  the  open  market.  Not  only  were  there  almost 
unlimited  supplies  of  rich  ore  in  sight,  but  the  very 
granite  containing  the  main  vein  itself  yielded  hand- 
somely under  low-grade  treatment.  It  seemed  impos- 
sible that  the  undertaking  should  go  wrong  at  any 
stage.  If  water  was  tapped,  it  went  to  irrigate  new 
lands  which  MacGonigal  had  added  to  the  ranch.  If 
a  new  shaft  was  sunk,  sufficient  pay-ore  was  taken  out 
of  the  excavation  to  meet  the  cost ;  whereas,  in  ninety- 
nine  mines  among  a  hundred,  the  charge  would  have 
fallen  on  capital. 

For  three  months  Power  lay  fallow  at  Dolores.  His 
bodily  vigor  was  unimpaired;  but  his  mind  demanded 
the  restorative  tonic  of  peace.  A  Chicago  bookstore 
sent  him  the  hundred  most  important  books  which  had 
been  published  during  his  absence  from  civilization, 
and,  with  their  aid,  he  supplemented  Marguerite's  les- 
sons, and  soon  brought  himself  abreast  of  contempo- 
rary thought.  Beyond  establishing  a  maternity  hos- 
pital in  Bison,  and  renewing  the  grant  to  Dr.  Steam's 
poor,  he  did  not  embark  in  philanthropic  schemes  to 
any  great  extent.     Still,  he  found  pressing  need  of 


The  Second  Generation  333 

a  secretary,  and  secured  an  excellent  assistant  in  a 
Harvard  undergraduate,  a  young  man  whose  brilliant 
career  in  the  university  was  brought  to  a  dramatic 
close  by  an  automobile  accident  which  crippled  him 
for  life.  He  was  one  of  the  first  victims  of  the  new 
force.  Power  had  never  seen  a  motor-car  until  he 
reached  New  York.  The  industry  had  sprung  into 
being  when  he  was  immured  in  the  Andes.  Even  yet 
it  was  in  the  experimental  stage,  and  his  secretary, 
Wilmot  Richard  Howard,  was  testing  an  improved 
steering-gear  when  he  was  smashed  up  by  a  hostile 
lumber  wagon. 

The  post  Power  offered  him  was  a  veritable  godsend, 
and  he,  in  his  way,  became  infinitely  useful  to  his  em- 
ployer. A  curious  sympathy  soon  existed  between 
them.  The  limitations  of  Howard's  maimed  body 
caused  him  to  understand  something  of  the  cramped 
outlook  before  Power's  maimed  soul.  Moreover,  within 
a  month,  his  wide  reading  and  thorough  acquaintance 
with  the  world's  current  topics  filled  gaps  in  Power's 
knowledge  which  books  alone  could  not  repair.  When 
Power  quitted  Bison  in  the  spring  of  the  year  none 
who  did  not  know  his  history  would  ever  have  sus- 
pected that  he  had  dwelt  so  long  apart  from  his  fellow- 
men. 

The  two  traveled  together.  Halting  in  New  York 
for  a  few  hours  only,  they  crossed  the  Atlantic  in  the 
Lucania,  They  remained  in  London  a  week,  living  in 
one  of  those  small  and  most  exclusive  West  End  hotels 
whose  patrons  come  and  go  without  the  blare  of  trum- 
pets in  the  press  which  is  the  penalty,  or  reward,  of 
residence  in  the  more  noteworthy  caravansaries.     Lon- 


334  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

don,  it  Is  true,  is  the  one  city  in  the  world  where  a 
millionaire  can  mingle  unnoticed  with  the  crowd;  but 
Power  took  no  risk  of  undue  publicity.  Once,  in  later 
years,  a  newspaper  discovered  him,  and  blazoned  forth 
to  all  and  sundry  the  status  he  occupied  in  Colorado; 
thenceforth,  Howard  arranged  matters  in  his  own 
name,  and  hotel  managers  and  hall-porters  bowed  to 
him  as  the  holder  of  the  purse. 

From  London,  reinforced  by  a  first-rate  valet,  the 
pair  went  to  Devon.  There,  in  a  wooded  comb  look- 
ing out  over  the  Atlantic,  they  found  Dacre,  the  one 
man  living  in  whose  ears  Power  could  to  some  extent 
unburden  his  heart.  From  him  were  forthcoming 
certain  details  as  to  Nancy's  end;  for  he  had  hap- 
pened to  dine  one  evening  with  the  physician  who  at- 
tended her  constantly  after  her  arrival  in  England, 
and  the  doctor,  little  guessing  how  well  informed  his 
neighbor  was  as  to  Mrs.  Marten's  antecedents,  had 
entered  into  particulars  of  what  he  described  as  "  a 
case  that  presented  unusual  and  baffling  features." 

"  From  what  he  told  me,  I  gathered  that  she  must 
have  pined  away  from  the  moment  she  left  you  in 
the  Adirondacks,"  said  Dacre.  "  I  realize  now  that 
she  not  only  fretted  herself  into  a  low  state  of  health, 
but  practically  gave  her  life  to  her  child.  No  won- 
der the  doctor  was  puzzled!  He  could  not  diagnose 
her  ailment;  for  who  would  have  suspected  that  a 
young,  beautiful,  and  rich  woman  was  resolved  to  die? 
Now,  knowing  what  we  do  know,  we  can  see  that  it 
was  better  so.  She  would  never  again  have  lived  with 
Marten  as  his  wife,  and  there  was  bound  to  be  trou- 
ble sooner  or  later.    Dear  lady !    I  have  often  thought 


The  Second  Generation  335 

of  her,  and  of  you.  Sometimes,  when  that  most  mis- 
leading faculty  called  common  sense  urged  that  you, 
too,  must  be  dead,  I  have  pictured  your  meeting  in 
the  great  beyond.  Indeed,  it  is  the  hope  of  such  re- 
unions that  accounts  for  mortal  belief  in  immortality. 
Remember,  I  also  have  paced  the  Via  Dolorosa,  and 
I  prize  those  hours,  above  all  others,  in  which  I  dream 
of  a  kingdom  where  wrongs  are  adjusted  by  an  all- 
wise  Intelligence,  and  the  wretched  failures  of  earthly 
life  are  dislodged  from  memory  by  some  divine  anodyne." 

There  was  silence  for  awhile.  The  two  men  were 
talking  in  a  restful,  old-fashioned  room  which  com- 
manded a  far-flung  view  of  the  Atlantic.  Howard, 
whose  acute  sensibility  might  always  be  trusted  in  such 
moments,  had  betaken  himself  to  the  garden  with  an 
amiable  collie,  and  the  friends  were  free  to  talk  with- 
out restraint. 

Then  Dacre  essayed  a  cheerier  note.  "  We  can't 
help  dwelling  on  these  things,"  he  said ;  "  but  I  would 
remind  you  that  you  are  still  a  young  man,  and  it  is  a 
nice  question,  whether,  when  all  is  said  and  done,  you 
are  justified  in  binding  yourself  forever  to  a  pale  ghost. 
It  is  a  poetic  conceit;  but  the  eugenist  would  tell  you 
that  you  ought  to  marry." 

"  I  shall  never  marry,"  said  Power. 

Nancy's  secret  would  be  buried  with  him,  and 
that  fact  alone  burked  any  reference  to  Marguerite 
Sinclair.  Dacre  was  exceedingly  shrewd,  and  could 
hardly  fail  to  reach  the  correct  conclusion  if  he  heard 
that  "  the  other  woman  "  did  actually  exist,  and  that 
circumstances  of  recent  discovery  alone  prevented  the 
contemplated  marriage. 


336  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

"  Ah,  well ! "  sighed  the  older  man,  relapsing  into 
Power's  mood.  "  This  is  a  genuine  instance  of  the  pot 
advising  the  kettle  not  to  be  black.  How  do  you  pur- 
pose spending  your  time?  " 

"  I'll  tell  you.  I  mean  to  do  some  good  in  the  world. 
But  I  have  not  come  here  to  bore  you  with  humane 
projects.  I've  not  forgotten  that  you  are  a  yachtsman. 
Say  you  agree,  and  I'll  hire  a  yacht  to  take  us  up  the 
west  coast  of  Scotland  and  across  the  North  Sea  to 
the  fiords." 

"  Spoken  like  a  prince !  It  is  the  very  thing  I'm 
longing  for;  but  my  purse  won't  run  to  it,  and  I'm 
rather  too  old  to  fraternize  with  Cockney  excursionists 
on  David  MacBrayne's  steamers  or  Cook's  tourists  in 
Norway." 

So  the  friends  passed  an  enjoyable  summer,  and 
liked  the  yacht  so  well  that  they  cruised  south  by 
way  of  Holland,  Belgium,  and  France,  and  wintered 
in  the  Mediterranean.  Then  Power  and  his  secretary 
hied  them  to  Bison  again;  whence  their  next  journey 
headed  east.  They  visited  flower-laden  Honolulu, 
panting  Japan,  gray  China,  and  golden  India.  Pitch- 
ing his  tent  where  he  listed.  Power  saw  mankind  in 
the  mass.  Everywhere,  even  in  climes  where  Nature 
is  prodigal  of  her  gifts,  there  was  misery  to  be  soft- 
ened, suffering  to  be  alleviated,  men  and  women  in 
want  and  worthy  of  help.  His  methods  were  simple 
in  the  extreme.  Attracting  little  or  no  attention  by 
display  of  wealth,  he  and  Howard  studied  every  prob- 
lem that  seemed  to  call  for  solution  by  money  wisely 
applied.  At  the  last  moment — often  when  he  had  de- 
parted to  some  far  distant  place — Power  would  send 


The  Second  Generation  337 

the  needed  sum  to  the  right  quarter.  Thus,  remaining 
almost  unknown,  he  left  a  trail  of  well-doing  behind 
him  in  the  four  comers  of  the  globe.  Sometimes, 
when  the  written  or  printed  word  insisted  on  making 
him  famous,  if  Bison  was  too  remote  a  sanctuary,  he 
would  disappear  for  many  months  on  end,  either  hob- 
nobbing with  Dacre  in  Devonshire  or  elsewhere,  or 
taking  protracted  tours  in  out-of-the-way  countries 
like  East  Africa,  Siberia,  or  the  Balkans. 

Naturally,  he  had  adventures  and  misadventures. 
No  man  can  scour  the  earth,  year  in  and  year  out — 
be  he  rich  as  Croesus  or  kindly  as  Francis  d'Assisi 
— ^without  enduring  vicissitudes,  whether  they  arise 
from  the  haphazard  casualties  of  travel  or  are  the 
outcome  of  sheer  human  perversity. 

In  Nairobi,  he  had  the  narrowest  escape  from  being 
mauled  by  a  lion;  his  boat  was  wrecked  in  a  rapid  of 
the  Yang-tse-Kiang,  and  a  Chinese  coolie  saved  him 
from  death  by  diving  after  him  when  he  sank,  stunned 
by  collision  with  a  rock ;  in  the  town  of  Omsk,  in  East- 
ern Siberia,  he  was  lodged  in  a  fever-stricken  prison 
for  interfering  between  a  brutal  Cossack  c^cer  and 
a  female  political  prisoner  whom  the  man  was  flogging 
mercilessly  with  a  knout.  On  this  occasion  Howard 
rescued  him  by  bribing  every  official  in  sight.  His 
worst  experience  came  in  a  Rumelian  Christian  vil- 
lage. Howard  found  that  certain  saline  mud  baths  on 
the  coast  of  the  Adriatic  exercised  a  highly  beneficial 
effect  on  his  injured  spine;  so  Power  left  him  there, 
to  undergo  a  complete  course  of  treatment,  and  trav- 
eled alone  in  the  interior.  By  ill  luck,  he  was  be- 
nighted in  a  miserable  hamlet  near  Adrianople.     Dur- 


838  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

ing  the  night  the  Turkish  authorities  learned  that 
smallpox  was  rife  among  the  inhabitants.  They  estab- 
lished a  cordon,  and  drove  back  at  the  point  of  the 
bayonet  all  who  attempted  to  leave  the  place.  For 
six  weeks  Power  lived  in  a  pesthouse;  but  the  Andean 
sap  rose  again  in  his  bones,  and  he  reorganized  the  hab- 
its of  the  community  so  thoroughly  that  its  survivors 
regarded  him  as  a  man  sent  by  God  for  their 
deliverance. 

Thus,  doing  good  by  stealth,  and  ever  widening  his 
knowledge  of  mankind,  he  passed  thirteen  busy  years. 
It  would  serve  no  useful  purpose  to  go  more  fully  into 
the  records  of  that  long  and  fruitful  period  of  his  life. 
Though  crammed  with  incident  and  rich  in  the  vivid 
tints  of  travel  in  many  lands,  it  calls  for  none  other 
than  the  briefest  summary  in  a  narrative  which,  at 
the  best,  can  deal  only  with  the  chief  phases  of  a 
remarkable  career. 

He  was  in  his  forty-eighth  year,  and  was  paying  a 
deferred  visit  to  Dacre,  when  he  entered  upon  the  last, 
and  in  some  respects  the  greatest,  of  his  trials.  How- 
ard was  in  London,  showing  the  sights  to  some  rela- 
tions, and  Power  had  elected  to  motor  to  Devonshire. 
His  chauffeur,  a  tall,  well-built  youngster  who  an- 
swered to  the  name  of  Maguire — being,  in  fact,  Raf- 
ferty's  grandson — ^was  eager  to  test  a  car  which  was 
supposed  to  possess  every  mechanical  virtue,  and 
Power  was  not  disinclined  for  the  run  through  a  June 
England.  Nothing  daunted  by  the  prospect  of  twelve 
hours'  continuous  excess  of  the  speed  limit,  master 
and  man  determined  to  reach  Devonshire  in  the  day. 
But  the  machine  decided  differently.     Two  burst  tires 


The  Second  Generation  839 

cost  them  a  couple  of  hours  on  the  road,  and  a  speck 
of  grit  in  a  valve  caused  such  trouble  that  it  became 
necessary  to  stop  for  the  night  in  a  town  where  care- 
ful overhauling  of  the  engine  was  practicable;  so  they 
ran  slowly  into  Bournemouth,  and  there,  in  one  of  the 
big  hotels  on  the  clifF,  Power  met  his  own  daughter. 

He  thought,  and  not  without  reason,  that  he  was 
the  victim  of  hallucination.  He  had  halted  for  a  mo- 
ment in  a  soft-carpeted  corridor  to  look  at  a  spir- 
ited painting  of  wild  ponies  in  the  New  Forest,  when 
a  door  opened  close  at  hand.  He  heard  no  footstep; 
but  the  rustle  of  a  dress  caught  his  ear,  and  he  moved 
aside  to  permit  the  passing  of  some  lady  of  whose 
presence  he  was  only  half  conscious.  But  a  sudden 
impulse — perhaps  due  to  the  action  of  the  magnetic 
waves  which  link  certain  kindred  individualities  with- 
out their  personal  cognizance — caused  him  to  turn 
and  look  at  the  stranger,  and  he  saw — Nancy ! 

The  light  in  the  corridor  was  dim — for  instance, 
he  had  been  obliged  to  peer  closely  at  the  picture 
before  he  could  decipher  the  artist's  signature — ^but 
there  was  no  mistaking  the  extraordinary  resemblance 
which  this  girl  bore  to  the  Nancy  Willard  of  the 
Dolores  Ranch  days,  the  Nancy  with  whom  he  used 
to  gallop  along  prairie  tracks  where  now  ran  the  steel 
ribbons  of  electrically  propelled  street-cars,  Nancy  as 
he  knew  her  before  he  had  won  and  lost  her  twice. 

The  shock  of  recognition  was  so  unexpected  that 
he  reeled  under  it.  Then,  seeing  that  the  girl  was  evi- 
dently wondering  why  he  was  looking  at  her  so 
strangely,  he  forced  himself  to  walk  on  toward  his 
own  apartment. 


340  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

There,  when  calmer  thought  became  possible,  he 
realized  that  he  had  seen  Nancy's  child,  a  girl  now  in  her 
twentieth  year.  She  was  so  like  her  mother  at  the 
same  age  that  there  was  no  possibility  of  error  on 
his  part.  The  same  glory  of  golden-brown  hair,  the 
same  changeful  eyes  of  blende  Kagoul  blue,  the  same 
winsome  features,  the  same  graceful  carriage — he  could 
not  be  mistaken.  And,  to  make  more  fierce  the  fire 
that  was  consuming  him,  he  had  again  found  a  subtle 
hint  of  Marguerite  Sinclair  in  the  sprightly  maid  who 
had  passed  him  so  silently  and  swiftly.  He  smiled  with 
a  sort  of  bitter  weariness  when  it  dawned  on  him  that 
this  vision  would  probably  control  the  future  course 
of  his  life.  He  was  face  to  face  with  Destiny  again. 
There  was  less  chance  of  escape  for  him  now  than  for 
the  sailor  swept  from  the  gale-submerged  deck  of  a 
tramp  steamer  in  mid-Atlantic,  because  miracles  did 
sometimes  happen  at  sea;  but,  where  he  was  concerned, 
Fate  planted  her  snares  so  cunningly  that  he  was  al- 
ways fast  pinioned  before  he  even  suspected  their 
existence. 

"  I  am  fey  today.  I  peer  into  a  dim  future.  Some 
day,  somehow,  you  will  understand  that  which  is  hidden 
from  my  ken.'* 

He  could  not  comprehend  the  full  meaning  of  those 
words  yet;  but  the  day  of  reckoning  was  at  hand. 
Well,  it  was  better  so.  Surely  the  settlement  would  be 
final  this  time! 

He  was  minded  to  dine  in  privacy;  but  he  was  no 
coward,  and  the  inclination  was  dismissed  as  unworthy. 
So  he  dressed  with  care,  reached  the  crowded  dining- 
room  rather  late,  and  was  allotted  to  a  small  table 


The  Second  Generation  341 

near  a  window.  In  that  particular  window  was  a 
party  of  six,  and  among  them  were  Marten  and  the 
girl.  She  raised  her  eyes  when  Power  entered,  and 
a  look  of  recognition  came  into  them.  On  her  right 
sat  a  small,  polished,  olive-skinned  man,  who  seemed 
to  be  more  engrossed  in  her  company  than  she  in  his. 
The  faces  of  these  three  were  clearly  visible  from  Pow- 
er's place;  the  others,  two  women  and  a  man,  were 
not  so  much  in  evidence. 

He  strove  to  catch  some  of  the  girl's  accents ;  but 
she  spoke  but  little,  and  that  in  a  low  tone.  She  gave 
him  the  impression  of  being  among  people  whom  she 
disliked,  but  whose  presence  had  to  be  endured.  Once 
or  twice  she  addressed  Marten,  and  then  her  manner 
reminded  him  more  than  ever  of  her  mother.  To  all 
appearance,  father  and  daughter  were  wrapped  up  in 
each  other,  and  Power  knew  not  whether  to  rejoice  or 
be  sad  because  of  it.  Martin  looked  old  and  worn. 
He  showed  every  one  of  his  sixty  years.  The  burden 
of  finance  may  be  even  weightier  than  that  of  empire. 

Power's  mind  ran  back  to  the  night,  just  twenty 
years  before,  when  he  sat  at  a  table  in  another  hotel  and 
found  Nancy  Marten  gazing  at  him.  Skies  and  times 
may  change,  but  not  manners.  He  had  met  mother  and 
daughter  under  precisely  similar  conditions,  save  that 
he  was  alone  now,  and  a  complete  stranger  to  the  girl. 
Marten  was  so  taken  up  with  his  friends  that  he  gave 
no  attention  to  others  in  the  room.  Perhaps  he  had 
trained  himself  to  that  useful  habit.  At  any  rate,  he 
glanced  Power's  way  only  once,  and  obviously  regarded 
him  as  one  among  the  well-dressed  throng. 

Later,  in  a  lounge  where  people  smoked,  chatted, 


342  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

drank  coffee,  or  played  bridge  to  the  accompaniment 
of  an  excellent  band,  Power  contrived  to  pass  close  be- 
hind the  girl's  chair.  She  was  with  one  of  the  women 
now,  and  talking  animatedly.  Yes,  she  had  her  moth- 
er's voice!  What  long  dormant  chords  of  memory  it 
touched!  How  it  vibrated  through  heart  and  brain! 
Nancy — dead  and  yet  speaking! 

Next  morning  the  car,  in  chastened  mood,  bore  him 
smoothly  and  quickly  away  through  the  Hampshire 
pines  and  the  blossom-laden  hedges  of  Somerset.  He 
reached  Dacre's  house  early  in  the  afternoon,  and  was 
somewhat  surprised  when  his  friend  suggested  that  they 
should  start  forthwith  on  a  rambling  tour  up  the  Wye 
Valley  and  thus  to  the  lakes  by  way  of  North  Wales. 

This  spirit  of  unrest  was  so  unlike  Dacre's  wonted 
air  of  repose  that  it  evoked  a  question. 

"  I  have  just  come  here  to  escape  from  the  cease- 
less rush  of  things,"  said  Power.  "  Why  do  you  want 
to  bustle  me  off  so  promptly?  " 

"  I  thought  a  change  of  scene  might  be  good  for 
both  of  us,"  was  the  offhand  answer. 

"  Yet  it  is  only  a  week  since  you  wrote  and 
reproached  me  for  neglecting  the  Devon  moors.  I  can 
slay  you  with  your  own  quotation.  You  bade  me  join 
you  in — 

*  This  other  Eden,  demi-paradise. 
This  fortress  built  by  Nature  for  herself ' — 

and  now  you  would  have  us  cavort  along  dusty  high- 
ways to  other  joys.    Why  Is  It?  " 

"  My  quotation  applied  to  the  whole  of  this  scep- 
tered  isle." 


The  Second  Generation  343 

"  You  are  quibbling,  Dacre,  and  I  think  I  guess  the 
reason.  Have  you  heard  anything  of  Marten  re- 
cently?" 

His  companion  did  not  try  to  conceal  the  surprise 
that  leaped  to  his  eyes. 

"  Your  Indians  made  you  a  bit  of  wizard,"  he  said. 
"  I'll  tell  you  now  what  I  meant  to  hide  from  you. 
Marten  has  rented  Lord  Valescure's  place  on  the  hill 
yonder,  and  is  due  here  tomorrow  or  next  day.  I 
heard  the  name  of  the  new  tenant  only  this  morning, 
and  decided  that  we  ought  to  quit  if  we  want  to  be 
happy." 

"  No.    If  you'll  let  me,  I'll  remain." 

"Is  it  wise?" 

"  I  endured  the  major  wrench  last  night.  Marten 
and — and  his  daughter  were  staying  in  the  same  hotel 
as  myself." 

"So  you  have  seen  her — at  last?" 

"Yes,  and  I'll  confess  my  weakness.  Having  seen 
her,  I  wish  to  speak  to  her.  I  admit  my  folly;  but  I 
cannot  help  it.  Somehow — I  think — that  her  mother — 
would  wish  it.  I'll  placate  Marten,  grovel  to  him,  if 
I  may  be  allowed  to  meet  her." 

"  My  dear  Derry,  I've  said  my  say.  You  ought  to 
have  lived  two  thousand  years  ago,  and  Euripides 
would  have  immortalized  you  in  a  tragedy." 

The  eyes  of  the  two  men  clashed;  but  Power  re- 
pressed the  imminent  request  for  an  explanation  of 
that  cryptic  remark.  He  dared  not  ask  what  Dacre 
had  in  mind.  His  comment  might  have  been  a  chance 
shaft;  but  it  fell  dangerously  near  the  forbidden  ter- 
ritory of  Nancy's  close-veiled  secret.     When  next  he 


344!  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

spoke,  it  was  to  give  a  motorist's  account  of  the  mis- 
haps of  the  road. 

A  week  passed.  Dacre's  house  lay  halfway  up  a 
wooded  comb,  or  valley,  and  the  Valescure  castle  stood 
on  a  bold  tor  that  thrust  itself  bluntly  into  the  sea. 
Unless  the  occupants  of  each  place  were  on  friendly 
terms,  they  might  dwell  in  the  same  district  and  not 
meet  once  in  a  year.  By  taking  a  rough  path  they 
were  barely  three-quarters  of  a  mile  apart ;  but  the 
only  practicable  carriage-road  covered  three  miles  or 
more.  Dacre's  interests  lay  with  the  fisher-folk  at  the 
foot  of  the  comb  or  among  the  woods  and  heather 
of  Dartmoor  Forest,  rolling  up  into  the  clouds  behind 
his  abode,  while  the  great  folk  of  the  castle  seldom 
came  his  way,  unless  Lord  Valescure  happened  to  be 
in  residence,  when  the  two  forgathered  often. 

But  Dacre  was  right  when  he  hinted  at  the  tragic 
inevitableness  of  his  friend's  life.  They  had  strolled 
into  the  rectory  for  tea,  and  were  chatting  with  their 
hostess  about  a  forthcoming  charity  fete,  when  a  motor 
rumbled  to  the  door,  and  Nancy  Marten  appeared,  a 
radiant  vision  in  the  muslin  and  flower-decked  hat  of 
summer. 

"  How  kind  of  you  to  come ! "  said  the  rector's  wife, 
rising  to  greet  the  girl.  "  Lady  Valescure  said  she 
was  sure  I  might  write  and  seek  your  help  for  our 
village  revel.  She  said  all  sorts  of  nice  things  about 
you,  and  now  I  know  they  are  true." 

So  Power  was  introduced  to  "  Miss  Marten,"  and  the 
girl  gave  him  one  of  those  shy  yet  delightfully  candid 
glances  which  he  remembered  so  well  in  her  mother's 
eyes. 


The  Second  Generation  345 

"  Didn't  I  meet  you  recently  in  the  corridor  of  a 
hotel  at  Bournemouth  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes,"  he  said. 

"  Then  you  will  be  surprised  to  hear  that  you  rather 
startled  me.  I  thought  you  were  about  to  fall,  and 
was  on  the  point  of  catching  your  arm  when  you 
walked  away.  Then  I  saw  you  had  a  slight  limp, 
and  it  was  that  which  had  probably  caused  my  stupid 
notion.  Wouldn't  you  have  been  tremendously  aston- 
ished if  a  giddy  young  person  had  clutched  you  sud- 
denly and  implored  you  not  to  drop  at  her  feet?  " 

"  Yet  I  can  well  imagine  any  man,  especially  a 
younger  sprig  than  myself,  being  moved  to  some  such 
act  of  homage." 

She  laughed — Nancy  again! 

"  There  seems  to  be  no  end  of  men  in  England  who 
can  pay  neat  compliments  to  a  woman,"  she  said.  "  But 
you're  not  an  Englishman,  Mr.  Power.  Aren't  you  a 
fellow-countryman  of  mine?  " 

«  Yes." 

"How  jolly!  People  never  guess  it,  but  I'm  an 
American ;  though  I  can  never  be  President,  even  if  we 
women  get  a  vote,  because  I  was  born  in  London.  But 
my  parents  hail  from  the  Silver  State." 

"  Where  more  gold  is  produced  than  in  any  other 
state  of  the  Union." 

"  Then  you  know  Colorado  ?  " 

"  Yes.  Better  than  that,  I  knew  your  mother  many 
years  ago,  before  her  marriage." 

"  You  knew  my  mother — in  Colorado — on  the  ranch ! 
Well !  "  She  turned  rapidly  to  her  hostess.  "  Thank 
you  ever  so  much  for  inviting  me  here  today.     I'll 


846  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

work  like  a  slave  for  your  bazaar.  Here  is  the  man 
I've  been  aching  to  meet  ever  since  I  was  able  to  talk. 
Please  don't  think  me  rude  if  I  monopolize  him  all  the 
afternoon.  I'm  going  to  take  him  off  to  that  nice  shady 
seat  under  the  copper  beech,  and  question  him  until  he 
cries  for  mercy.  .  .  .  Yes,  please.  Tea,  with  sugar 
and  milk,  and  lots  of  bread  and  butter,  piled  high  with 
Devonshire  cream  and  jam — all  the  good  things! 
Why,  you're  a  veritable  fairy  princess.  Mr.  Power 
met  my  mother  when  she  was  a  girl !  .  .  .  Come  along, 
Mr.  Power!  No  wonder  I  was  inclined  to  grab  you 
in  that  corridor.  Oh,  had  I  but  guessed !  I'll  never, 
never  distrust  intuition  again." 

"  To  begin  with,"  said  Power,  as  he  walked  with 
her  across  the  springy  turf  with  a  laden  tray  in  his 
hands,  "  in  what  way  did  intuition  prompt  you?  " 

"  I  don't  mind  telling  you  at  once.  I  feel  I  can 
talk  to  you  as  though  we  had  known  each  other  al- 
ways. I  said  you  rather  startled  me;  but  that  was 
just  a  polite  way  of  saying  what  I  didn't  exactly  mean. 
You  were  examining  a  picture,  and  you  turned  unex- 
pectedly and  looked  at  me.  There  was  an  expression 
in  your  eyes  that  gave  me  a  sort  of  shock,  one  of  those 
emotional  thrills  which  cannot  be  described  in  words. 
You  might  have  been  gazing  at  the  ghost  of  someone 
very  dear  to  you.  Ah,  forgive  me  if  my  tongue  runs 
away  with  me,  but  I'm  really  excited.  Of  course,  I 
understand  now.  You  took  me  for  my  mother.  And  I 
am  like  her,  am  I  not?  " 

"  So  like  that  your  first  impression  was  right.  I  did 
nearly  fall.  The  least  push  would  have  toppled  me 
over.     It  was  only  the  iron  law  of  convention  that 


The  Second  Generation  847 

enabled  me  to  pass  on  as  though  nothing  unusual  had 
happened." 

"  Then  my  mother  and  you  were  great  friends  ?  " 

«  Yes." 

"  You  met  her  long  before  she  was  married?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Don't  say  yes,  and  leave  it  at  that.  Tell  me 
things — everything  you  think  I  would  like  to  know." 

"  I  may  tell  you  this,  without  the  slightest  unfair- 
ness to — to  your  father.  I  loved  your  mother;  but 
I  was  poor  in  those  days,  and  dared  not  ask  her  to 
marry  me.  Then  I  was  sent  away  to  a  distant  mine — 
and — we  drifted  apart.  When  next  I  saw  her  she  was 
a  wife.  Now,  suppose  we  forget  that  bit  of  ancient 
history — because  I  hope  to  become  friendly  with  your 
father — for  your  sake." 

The  girl's  eyes  were  glistening,  and  she  had  lost  some 
of  her  exquisite  color. 

She  understood,  or  thought  she  understood;  though 
she  little  dreamed  what  fierce  longings,  what  vain  re- 
grets, were  surging  through  the  man's  inmost  core. 
Her  quick  intelligence  noted  certain  slight  hesitancies 
in  his  speech,  which  the  ever-present  feminine  sense  of 
romance  attributed  to  tender  recollections  of  the  by- 
gone days.  With  ready  sympathy,  she  led  him  to  talk 
of  the  ranch,  of  Bison,  even  of  her  grandfather,  whom 
she  remembered  but  vaguely. 

Power  kept  a  close  guard  on  his  words,  and  easily 
focused  her  interest  on  topics  which  could  not  prove 
hurtful,  even  if  she  repeated  the  conversation  to  Mar- 
ten in  its  entirety.  Once  only  did  their  chat  veer  round 
to  a  dangerous  quarter. 


348  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

"  You  said  you  saw  my  mother  again  after  her  mar- 
riage— where  was  that  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  In  Newport,  Rhode  Island.  I  went  there  to  buy 
horses,  and  we  met  unexpectedly  in  a  hotel,  just  as  you 
and  I  the  other  evening." 

"  Was  she — was  she  happy?  " 

"  Of  course  she  was  happy.  She  was  one  of  the 
most  beautiful  women  of  her  day,  and  married  to  a 
rich  man  who  was  certainly  devoted  to  her.  She  moved 
in  the  best  society,  both  in  America  and  in  Europe. 
By  the  way,  her  closest  friends  were  the  Van  Raltens 
in  the  States  and  the  Duchesse  de  Brasnes  in  Paris. 
Have  you  ever  come  across  any  members  of  those 
families  ? " 

"  I  know  Mrs.  Van  Ralten  very  well.  Her  daughter 
was  at  school  with  me  at  Brussels." 

"  Then  Mr.  Marten  hardened  his  heart,  and  parted 
from  you  for  a  time?  " 

"  Yes.  I  see  now  that  it  was  bad  for  a  girl  to 
be  always  at  home  or  in  hotels,  with  governesses.  For- 
tunately, Father  had  to  be  away  a  good  deal,  in  Rus- 
sia and  elsewhere ;  so  I  was  sent  to  school,  where  I  was 
taught  what  little  I  know." 

Thus  was  an  unforeseen  shoal  safely  navigated, 
and  Power  took  care  that  Newport  was  lost  sight 
of.  As  he  and  Dacre  walked  up  the  valley  to 
their  abode,  the  latter  broke  a  long  silence  by  say- 
ing: 

"  Again  I  ask,  Derry — is  it  wise  ?  " 

"  And  again  I  answer  that  years  of  suffering  entitle 
one  to  the  fleeting  pleasure  of  seeing  and  speaking  to 
Nancy's  daughter," 


The  Second  Generation  349 

"  But  she  is  Marten's  daughter,  too,  and  he  may 
prove  difficult." 

"  Let  him.  I  have  fought  stronger  adversaries,  and 
won  through  in  the  end." 

Secretary  Howard  joined  them  that  night.  After 
dinner  he  inquired  if  Power  had  ever  had  any  deal- 
ings with  Mowlem  &  Son,  a  firm  of  lawyers  in  New 
York. 

"  No,"  said  Power.  "  The  name  is  not  familiar  to 
me." 

"  Queer  thing !  A  man  who  represented  himself  as 
their  London  agent  called  at  my  hotel  yesterday  and 
inquired  if  it  was  correct  that  you  were  in  Devonshire. 
I  said  yes,  and  asked  his  business.  He  explained 
that  Mowlem  &  Son  wanted  to  know,  and  that  was  all 
he  could,  or  would,  tell  me.  I  was  inclined  to  believe 
him." 

"  Perhaps  it  is  the  usual  hue  and  cry  after  a  bloated 
capitalist." 

"  I  rather  fancy  not.  This  fellow  seemed  to  lay 
stress  on  your  presence  here.  Besides,  the  company- 
promoting  crowd  have  learned  long  since  that  you  are 
unapproachable." 

"  At  such  a  moment  one  might  mention  a  peak  in 
Darien,"  laughed  Dacre,  and  the  incident  lapsed  into 
the  limbo  of  insignificant  happenings. 

Thenceforth  Power  met  Nancy  day  after  day.  The 
approaching  fete  supplied  the  girl  with  a  ready  excuse 
for  these  regular  visits  to  village  and  rectory.  Power 
believed,  though  he  did  not  seek  enlightenment,  that 
she  had  not  spoken  of  him  to  her  father.  One  day,  when 
she  was  accompanied  by  the  sleek,  olive-skinned  man 


350  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

he  had  seen  at  Bournemouth,  she  rather  avoided  him, 
and  he  ascertained  from  an  awe-stricken  rustic  that 
the  stranger  was  a  prince,  but  of  what  dynasty  his  in- 
formant could  not  say. 

At  their  next  meeting  he  rallied  the  girl  on  her  aloof- 
ness.    She  withered  him  with  an  indignant  glance, 

"  Come !  "  she  said  imperiously,  taking  him  from  the 
schoolhouse  in  which  a  committee  was  assembled,  and 
making  for  the  tiny  stone  pier  which  sheltered  a  small 
estuary  from  southwesterly  gales. 

"  I've  got  to  tell  you  some  day,  and  you  may  as  well 
know  now,"  she  said,  with  a  curious  hardness  of  tone 
which  she  had  probably  acquired  from  Marten  by  the 
trick  of  association.  "  You  loved  my  mother,  and 
ought  to  have  married  her.  If  all  was  nice  and  provi- 
dential in  the  best  of  all  possible  worlds,  you  would 
have  been  my  father.  Oh,  you  needn't  flinch  because 
I  say  that!  If  you  were  my  father,  I'm  sure  you 
wouldn't  force  me  to  marry  a  man  I  detest.  That  per- 
son who  came  with  me  yesterday  is  the  high  and 
mighty  Principe  del  Montecastello.  I  have  to  marry 
him,  and  I  hate  him !  " 

Power's  face  went  very  pale.  His  hour  had  struck. 
He  looked  out  over  a  smiling  ocean;  but  the  eyes  of 
his  soul  saw  a  broken  vista  of  barren  hills,  snow-crowned 
and  glacier-ribbed,  while  howling  torrents  rushed 
through  the  depths  of  ravines  choken  with  the  debris 
of  avalanches  and  rotting  pines.  His  own  voice 
sounded  hollow  and  forlorn  in  his  ears. 

"  In  these  days  no  woman  need  marry  a  man  she 
hates,"  he  was  saying,  aware  of  a  dull  effort  to  ward 
off  a  waking  nightmare  by  the  spoken  word. 


The  Second  Generation  351 

"You  know  better  than  that,"  she  retorted,  with 
the  bitter  logic  of  youth.  "What  am  I  to  do?  The 
man  I  love,  and  would  marry  if  I  could,  is  poor.     He 

is  too  honorable  to — to Oh,  I  don't  know  what 

I  mean — only  this,  that  a  millionaire's  daughter  can 
be  bought  and  sold  like  any  other  girl,  even  a  princess, 
when  what  men  call  *  important  interests '  are  at 
stake." 

"You  say  you  have  chosen  another  man?"  he  said 
brokenly. 

"  Yes,  the  dearest  boy.  Oh,  Mr.  Power,  I  wish  you 
knew  him!  I  have  faith  in  you.  Perhaps  you  could 
help — if  only  for  my  dear  mother's  safe." 

She  was  crying  now;  but  her  streaming  eyes  sought 
his  with  wistful  confidence. 

"Yes.  I  will  help,  for  your  dear  mother's  sake," 
he  said.  "  Be  brave,  and  drive  away  those  tears.  They 
— they  hurt.  I — I  saw  your  mother  crying  once. 
Now  tell  me  everything.  If  I  would  be  of  any  real 
assistance,  I  must  know  how  to  shape  my  efforts." 


CHAPTER  XIX 
THE  SETTLEMENT 

Nancy's  pitiful  little  story  was  soon  told.  During 
the  last  year  she  had  often  met  the  Honorable  Philip 
Lindsay,  second  son  of  an  impoverished  Scottish  peer, 
and  now  a  lieutenant  in  a  line  regiment  stationed  at 
Aldershot.  They  discovered  each  other,  in  the  first 
instance,  at  a  hunt  ball  in  Leicestershire,  and  a  simple 
confusion  of  names  led  the  man  to  believe  that  the 
pretty  girl  with  the  blue  eyes  was  the  hired  com- 
panion of  the  daughters  of  the  family  with  whom  she 
was  staying.  Her  friends — like  herself,  just  emanci- 
pated from  the  schoolroom — fostered  the  deception, 
which  she  and  they  found  amusing;  but  Lindsay's  Cel- 
tic blood  was  fired  by  the  knowledge  that  he  had  found 
the  one  woman  in  the  world  he  wanted  to  marry,  be 
she  poor  as  Cinderella.  Before  the  girl  realized  that 
the  handsome  young  soldier  was  not  of  the  carpet- 
knight  type,  he  was  telHng  her  he  loved  her,  and  asking 
her  to  wait  for  him  till  he  got  his  captaincy  or  secured 
an  adjutant's  berth  in  a  territorial  battalion,  and  they 
would  wed. 

Of  course,  there  were  explanations,  and  tears,  and 
a  good  deal  of  the  white-lipped  tragedy  of  youth. 
Lindsay,  like  a  gallant  gentleman,  refused  to  be  dubbed 
a  fortune-hunter,  and  went  back  to  his  regiment,  where 
he  threw  himself  into  the  dissipation  of  musketry  in- 

852 


The  Settlement  353 

struction  with  a  cold  fury  that  surprised  and  gratified 
his  colonel.  Then  Nancy  found  that  her  heart  had 
gone  with  him,  and  wrote  a  tearful  request  that  they 
might  never  meet  again ;  whereupon  the  sprite  who  con- 
trols these  affairs  brought  Marten  and  his  daughter  to 
a  grand  review  at  Windsor — and  who  should  be  on  some 
notable  general's  staff  but  Lieutenant  the  Honorable 
Philip  Lindsay?  After  that  the  veriest  tyro  in  the 
methods  of  romance  must  see  that  the  general  would 
invite  the  American  millionaire  to  dine  with  him  that 
evening,  and  that  Lindsay  should  be  allotted  to  Nancy 
as  her  dinner  partner. 

There  were  thrills,  and  flashing  glances;  but  Cale- 
donia remained  both  stern  and  wild,  with  the  certain 
result  that  he  and  the  girl  grew  more  desperately 
enamoured  of  each  other  than  ever. 

But  this  is  not  the  love-story  of  a  new  Derry  and 
another  Nancy;  so  it  may  be  taken  for  granted  that 
twenty-four  and  nineteen  were  suffering  the  approved 
pangs,  and  were  given  every  opportunity  to  develop 
the  recognized  symptoms.  Our  real  concern  lies  with 
a  man  of  middle  age,  around  whom  these  minor  hap- 
penings revolved  like  comets  around  the  sun — itself 
ever  fleeting  into  stellar  depths.  Not  that  Power  felt 
any  resemblance  to  a  star  of  magnitude  at  that  time. 
Though  he  never  doubted  that  he  was  again  at  the 
mercy  of  irresistible  forces,  dragging  him  he  knew  not 
whither,  the  simile  that  presented  itself  to  his  mind 
was  that  of  a  log  being  swept  over  a  cataract.  De- 
spite his  brave  promise  to  the  weeping  girl,  he  had 
no  plan,  no  hope  of  successful  intervention.  He  caught 
at  one   straw  as   the  swirling  current  gripped  him. 


354  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

This  Italian  prince  might  be  a  very  excellent  fellow, 
and  the  soldier  a  bit  of  knave;  then  it  would  be  his 
bounden  duty  to  exhort  Nancy  to  filial  obedience,  that 
time-honored  principle  productive  of  so  much  good  and 
so  great  evils. 

"  What  is  Mr.  Lindsay's  address .?  "  he  inquired. 

She  told  him. 

"And  is  there  any  real  need  for  present  anxiety? 
You  are  far  too  young  to  think  of  marriage." 

"  Father  says  my  mother  was  wed  at  twenty.  He 
got  rather  angry  when  I  retorted  that  she  died  at 
twenty-four.  But  the  real  trouble  is  that  that  horrid 
Giovanni  Montecastello  is  pressing  for  an  engagement. 
Father  spoke  of  it  this  morning.  No  wonder  I  am  in 
such  a  rebellious  mood !  " 

"Does  Mr.  Marten  know  Lindsay.?" 

"  Yes.  He  regards  him  merely  as  one  of  the  thou- 
sand nice  young  men  one  meets  in  London  society." 

"  He  is  not  aware  of  his  attachment  for  you?  " 

She  raised  her  hands  in  horror.  Clearly,  Hugh 
Marten  was  master  in  his  own  household.  His  daugh- 
ter might  be  the  apple  of  his  eye;  but  he  brooked  no 
interference  with  his  perfected  schemes,  even  from 
her. 

"  At  any  rate,"  persisted  Power,  "  he  will  not  com- 
pel you  to  accept  Prince  Montecastello  tomorrow,  or 
next  day.  Can't  you  hold  out  until,  say,  your  twen- 
tieth birthday?" 

"  This  morning  I  promised  to  decide  within  a 
month." 

"  And  what  did  he  say?  " 

"He  smiled,  and  remarked  that  I  chose  my  words 


The  Settlement  355 

carelessly.  Evidently  I  meant  *  accept '  when  I  said 
*  decide.'  " 

"  Well,  then,  we  have  a  month.  Great  things  can 
be  achieved  in  that  time.  Fortresses  which  have  taken 
ten  years  to  build  have  fallen  in  a  day.  So  be  of 
good  cheer.     I  begin  the  attack  at  once." 

"  Will  you  please  tell  me  what  you  intend  doing?  " 

"  Firstly,  I  must  see  my  army,  which  is  composed 
of  one  man,  Philip  Lindsay.  Secondly,  we  must  call  on 
the  citadel  to  surrender.  Your  father  is  not  aware 
that  Mr.  Lindsay  may  be  his  prospective  son-in-law. 
He  must  be  enlightened." 

"  There  will  be  an  awful  row,"  declared  Nancy,  un- 
consciously reverting  to  the  slang  of  a  dismayed  school- 
girl. 

"  The  capture  of  a  stronghold  is  usually  accom- 
panied by  noise  and  clamor.  What  matter,  so  long  as 
it  yields?" 

"And  afterward?" 

"  Afterward,  like  every  prudent  general,  I  shall  be 
guided  by  events.  Come,  now;  we'll  go  down  to  the 
beach,  and  you  shall  dab  your  eyes  with  salt-water." 

"  Is  that  a  recipe  to  cure  red  eyes  ?  " 

"  It's  an  excuse  for  blue  ones  showing  a  red  tint." 

The  girl  smiled  pathetically.  "  Somehow,"  she  said, 
"  I  always  feel  comforted  after  a  talk  with  you.  You 
haven't  known  it,  Mr.  Power ;  for  I  have  been  forced  to 
conceal  my  troubles;  but  every  time  we  meet  you  send 
me  away  in  a  more  assured  frame  of  mind." 

She,  in  turn,  did  not  know  that  he  winced  as  if  she 
had  struck  him.  Truly,  he  was  paying  a  heavy  reck- 
oning for  the  frenzy  and  passion  of  those  far-off  days 


356  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

in  the  Adirondacks,  and,  worst  of  all,  the  seeming  ashes 
of  that  ardent  fire  threatened  to  blaze  out  anew. 

As  they  walked  back  to  the  village  they  encoun- 
tered a  well-dressed  man,  a  stranger.  By  this  time 
Power  was  so  thoroughly  acquainted  with  the  little 
hamlet's  inhabitants  that  he  recognized  some  by  name 
and  all  by  sight ;  but  this  man  was  unknown  to  him. 

That  evening  Howard  said,  "  By  the  way,  you  re- 
member an  inquiry  from  Mowlem  &  Son,  New  York? 
The  man  who  made  it  was  in  the  village  today.  I  saw 
him,  soon  after  Miss  Marten  and  you  strolled  on  to  the 
beach." 

Power  described  the  stranger,  and  Howard  identi- 
fied him ;  but  the  matter  was  dismissed  as  a  trivial  coin- 
cidence. Indeed,  Power  had  affairs  of  moment  to  oc- 
cupy him.  Dacre,  it  appeared,  was  primed  with  facts 
concerning  the  Principe  del  Montecastello. 

"  His  people  are  the  famous  Lombardy  bankers," 
he  said.  "  I  have  an  idea,  based  on  ethnological 
theories,  that  they  belonged  originally  to  one  of  the 
ten  tribes ;  but  they  were  ennobled  during  the  seven- 
teenth century,  and  remained  highly  orthodox  Blacks 
till  the  present  king  came  to  the  throne,  when  they 
'verted  to  the  Whites.*  I  believe  that  this  change 
came  about  owing  to  their  association  with  Marten  in 
an  Italian  loan.  Anyhow,  the  existing  scion  of  the 
princely  house  is  rather  a  bad  hat.  Why  are  you  in- 
terested in  him?  " 

"  He  is  a  suitor  for  the  hand  of  a  young  lady  whose 
welfare  I  have  at  heart." 

*  The  Papal  and  Constitutional  parties  in  Italy  are  often  differen- 
tiated thus  briefly. 


The  Settlement  357 

"Not  Nancy?'* 

"  Yes." 

"  The  devil  he  is ! "  and  Dacre  expressed  his  senti- 
ments freely.  "  Why,  I'd  prefer  she  married  our  lo- 
cal road-mender ;  because  then,  at  least,  she  would  have 
a  decent,  clean-minded  husband.  Marten  must  be  los- 
ing grip.  Confound  it!  Why  doesn't  he  go  to  Paris 
or  Naples,  and  find  out  this  fellow's  antecedents?  I 
feel  it's  absurd  to  doubt  you,  but  can  you  really  trust 
your  informant?  " 

"  I  have  it  from  Nancy's  own  lips." 

"  Oh,  dash  it  all !    Can  nothing  be  done  to  stop  it?  " 

"  Much,  I  hope.  Tell  Howard  what  you  know,  and 
he  will  start  for  the  Continent  at  once  to  verify  it. 
Meanwhile,  may  I  invite  a  friend  to  come  here  to- 
morrow? " 

"Need  you  ask?  We  can  put  up  six  more  at  a 
pinch.  But  I  can't  get  over  Montecastello's  infernal 
impertinence.  Yet,  it's  fully  in  accordance  with  Ital- 
ian standards  of  right  and  wrong.  Your  young  count 
or  princeling  can  live  like  a  pig  until  matrimony  crops 
up.  Then  he  becomes  mighty  particular.  The  bride 
must  bring  not  only  her  dowry,  but  an  unblemished 
record  as  well.  I  suppose,  in  the  long  run,  it  is  a  wise 
thing.  Were  it  not  for  some  such  proviso,  half  the 
aristocracy  of  Europe  would  disappear  in  two  gen- 
erations." 

Power  passed  no  comment ;  but  he  sent  the  following 
letter  by  the  night  post : 

"  Dear  Mr.  Lindsay . — Miss  Nancy  Marten,  who  is  stay- 
ing at  Valescure  Castle,  near  this  house,  has  honored  me 


358  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

by  asking  my  advice  and  help  in  a  matter  that  concerns 
herself  and  you.  She  has  done  this  because  I  am  her  friend, 
and  was  her  mother's  friend  years  ago  in  Colorado.  Can 
you  get  leave  from  your  regiment  for  a  few  days,  and  come 
here.'*  I  believe  you  army  men  can  plead  urgent  private 
affairs,  and  there  is  little  doubt  as  to  the  urgency  and  pri- 
vacy of  this  request.  I  make  one  stipulation.  You  are 
not  to  communicate  with  Miss  Nancy  Marten  until  you  have 
seen  me. 

**  Sincerely  yours, 

"John  Darien  Power/' 

He  passed  a  troubled  and  sleepless  night.  Dacre's 
careless  if  heated  words  had  sunk  deep.  They  chimed 
in  oddly  with  a  thought  that  was  not  to  be  stilled,  a 
thought  that  had  its  genesis  in  a  faded  letter  written 
twenty  years  ago. 

When  Howard  went  to  London  next  day  he  took  with 
him  a  cablegram,  part  in  code  and  part  in  plain  Eng- 
lish, It's  text  was  of  a  peculiarity  that  forbade 
the  use  of  a  village  postoffice;  for  it  ran,  when 
decoded : 

**  MacGonigal,  Bison,  Colorado . — Break  open  the  locked 
upper  right-hand  drawer  of  the  Japanese  cabinet  in  sitting- 
room,  Dolores,  and  send  immediately  by  registered  mail  the 
long  sealed  envelop  marked  '  To  be  burnt,  unopened,  by  my 
executors,'  and  signed  by  me.*' 

Then  followed  Power's  code  signature  and  his 
address. 

A  telegram  arrived  early.    It  read: 

"  Will  be  with  you  4.S0  today.  Lindsay." 


The  Settlement  859 

So  the  witches'  caldron  was  a-boil,  and  none  might 
tell  what  strange  brew  it  would  produce. 

Lindsay  came.  Nancy  had  described  him  aptly. 
The  British  army  seems  to  turn  out  a  certain  type  of 
tall,  straight,  clean-limbed,  and  clear-eyed  young  of- 
ficer as  though  he  were  cast  in  a  mold.  Power  ap- 
praised him  rightly  at  the  first  glance — a  gentleman, 
who  held  honor  dear  and  life  cheap,  a  man  of  high 
lineage  and  honest  mind,  a  Scot  with  a  fox-hunting 
strain  in  him,  a  youngster  who  would  put  his  horse 
at  a  shire  fence  or  lead  his  company  in  a  forlorn  hope 
with  equal  nonchalance  and  determination — not,  per- 
haps, markedly  intellectual,  but  a  direct  descendant  of 
a  long  line  of  cavaliers  whose  all-sufficing  motto  was, 
«  God,  and  the  King." 

The  two  had  a  protracted  discussion.  Power  felt 
that  he  must  win  this  somewhat  reserved  wooer's  confi- 
dence before  he  broached  the  astounding  project  he 
had  formed. 

"  I  take  it,"  he  said,  at  last,  seeing  that  Lindsay  was 
convinced  he  meant  well  to  Nancy,  "  I  take  it  Lord 
Colonsay  cannot  supplement  the  small  allowance  he 
now  makes  you  ?  " 

"  No.  It's  not  to  be  thought  of.  Scottish  estates 
grow  poorer  every  decade.  Even  now  Dad  makes  no 
pretense  of  supporting  a  title.  He  lives  very  quietly, 
and  is  hard  put  to  it  to  give  me  a  couple  of  hundred 
a  year." 

"  Then  I  can't  see  how  you  can  expect  to  marry  the 
daughter  of  a  very  rich  man  like  Hugh  Marten." 

"  Heaven  help  me,  neither  do  I !  " 

"  Yet  you  have  contrived  to  fall  in  love  with  her?  " 


860  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

"That  was  beyond  my  control.  She  has  told  you 
what  happened.  I  fought  hard  against  what  the  world 
calls  a  piece  of  folly.  I — avoided  her.  There  Is,  there 
can  be,  no  sort  of  engagement  between  us,  unless " 

"Unless  what?" 

"  Oh,  it  Is  a  stupid  thing  to  say,  but  you  American 
millionaires  do  occasionally  get  hipped  by  the  other 
fellow.  If  Marten  came  a  cropper,  I'd  have  my 
chance." 

Power  laughed  quietly.  "  You  are  a  true  Briton," 
he  said.  "  You  think  there  is  no  security  for  money 
except  in  trustee  stocks.  Well,  I  won't  disturb  your 
faith.  Now,  I  want  you  to  call  on  Mr.  Marten  to- 
morrow and  ask  him  formally  for  his  daughter's  hand." 

"  Then  the  fat  will  be  in  the  fire."  Evidently,  Philip 
and  Nancy  were  well  mated. 

"  Possibly ;  but  it  is  the  proper  thing  to  do." 

"  But,  Mr.  Power,  you  can't  have  considered  your 
suggestion  fully.  Suppose  Mr.  Marten  even  conde- 
scends to  listen?  His  first  question  floors  me.  I  have 
my  pay  and  two  hundred  a  year.  I  don't  know  a 
great  deal  about  the  cost  of  ladles'  clothes,  but  I  rather 
imagine  my  little  lot  would  about  buy  Nancy's  hats." 

"  In  this  changeable  climate  she  would  certainly 
catch  a  severe  cold.  But  you  are  going  to  tell  Mr. 
Marten  that  the  day  you  and  Nancy  sign  a  marriage 
contract  your  father  will  settle  half  a  million  sterling 
on  you,  and  half  a  million  on  Nancy.  So  the  fat 
spilled  in  the  fire  should  cause  a  really  fine  flare- 
up." 

Military  training  confers  calmness  and  self-control 
in  an  emergency ;  but  the  Honorable  Philip  Lindsay  ob- 


The  Settlement  861 

viously  thought  that  his  new  friend  had  suddenly  gone 
mad. 

"  I  really  thought  you  understood  the  position,"  he 
began  again  laboriously.  "  I  haven't  gone  into  the 
calculation,  but  I  should  say,  offhand,  that  our  place  in 
Scotland  wouldn't  yield  half  a  million  potatoes." 

"  To  speak  plainly,  then,  I  mean  to  give  you  the 
money ;  but  it  must  come  through  the  Earl  of  Colonsay. 
Further,  if  Marten  hums  and  haws  about  the  amount, 
ascertain  what  sum  will  satisfy  him.  A  million  between 
you,  in  hard  cash,  ought  to  suffice,  because  Marten  has 
many  millions  of  his  own." 

Lindsay  could  not  choose  but  believe ;  for  Power  had 
an  extra  measure  of  the  faculty  of  convincing  his 
fellow-men.     He  stammered,  almost  dumfounded: 

"  You  make  a  most  generous  offer,  an  amazingly 
generous  one.  You  almost  deprive  me  of  words.  But 
I  must  ask — why  ?  " 

"  Because,  had  life  been  kinder,  Nancy  would  have 
been  my  daughter  and  not  Marten's.  Yours  is  a  proper 
question,  and  I  have  answered  it;  so  I  hope  you  will 
leave  my  explanation  just  where  it  stands.  I  mean  to 
enlighten  you  more  fully  in  one  respect.  Your  host, 
Mr.  Dacre,  is  a  well-known  man,  and  you  will  prob- 
ably accept  what  he  says  as  correct.  After  dinner 
I  shall  ask  him  to  tell  you  that  I  can  provide  a  million 
sterling  on  any  given  date  without  difficulty." 

"  Mad  as  it  sounds,  Mr.  Power,  I  believe  you  im- 
plicitly." 

"  You  must  get  rid  of  that  habit  where  money  is 
concerned.  If  you  appease  Mr.  Marten,  you  will  have 
control  of  a  great  sum,  and  you  should  learn  at  the 


362  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

outset  to  take  no  man's  unsupported  word  regarding 
its  disposal  or  investment." 

Lindsay  went  to  his  room  with  the  manner  of  a  man 
walking  on  air.  Nothing  that  he  had  >ever  heard  or 
read  compared  in  any  degree  with  the  fantastic  events 
of  the  last  hour.  He  could  not  help  accepting  Power's 
statement;  yet  every  lesson  of  life  combated  its  credi- 
bility. It  is  not  surprising,  therefore,  that  he  should 
be  nervous  and  distrait  when  he  reappeared ;  but  Dacre 
soon  put  him  at  ease. 

"  Power  has  been  telling  me  how  he  took  your  breath 
away,  Mr.  Lindsay,"  he  said.  "  But  that  is  a  way 
he  has.  When  you  and  he  are  better  acquainted  you 
will  cease  to  marvel  at  anything  he  says,  or  does.  On 
this  one  point,  however,  I  want  to  speak  quite  em- 
phatically. Mr.  Power  is  certainly  in  a  position  to 
give  you  a  million  pounds  if  he  chooses,  and,  bearing 
in  mind  the  history  of  his  early  life,  and  the  high 
esteem  in  which  he  held  Nancy  Marten's  mother,  I  can 
sympathize  with  and  appreciate  the  motives  which  in- 
spire his  present  effort  to  secure  that  young  lady's 
happy  marriage." 

But  this  incident  is  set  down  here  merely  to  show 
how  Power  tried  to  make  smooth  the  way  by  using  his 
wealth.  He  himself  placed  no  reliance  in  its  efficacy. 
Lindsay  went  to  Valescure  Castle  in  high  feather;  but 
came  back  angered  and  perplexed.  Marten  had  lis- 
tened politely.  There  was  not  the  least  semblance  of 
annoyance  in  his  manner.  He  simply  dismissed  the 
suitor  with  quiet  civility.  When  Lindsay,  stung  to  pro- 
test, raised  the  question  of  finances,  the  other  heard 
him  out  patiently. 


The  Settlement  863 

"  In  different  conditions  I  might  have  been  inclined 
to  consider  your  claim,"  he  said,  when  Lindsay  had 
made  an  end.  "  Allow  me  to  congratulate  you  on  your 
position,  which  renders  you  a  suitable  parti  for  almost 
any  alliance — except  with  my  daughter.  No,  believe 
me,  my  decision  is  final,"  for  he  could  not 
know  how  ironical  was  his  compliment,  and  took 
the  young  man's  uneasy  gesture  as  heralding  a 
renewal  of  the  argument.  "  Miss  Marten  is 
pledged  elsewhere.  She  will  marry  Prince  Monte- 
castello." 

"  I  have  reason  to  know,  sir,  that  the  gentleman 
you  have  mentioned  is  utterly  distasteful  to  Nancy," 
broke  in  the  other. 

Marten's  face  darkened;  he  lost  some  of  his  suave 
manner.  "  Have  you  been  carrying  on  a  clandestine 
courtship  with  my  daughter?"  he  asked. 

"  No.  A  man  bearing  my  name  has  no  reason  to 
shun  daylight.  That  I  have  not  sought  your  sanction 
earlier  is  due  to  the  fact  that  I  did  not  dream  of  mar- 
rying Nancy  until  a  stroke  of  good  fortune  enabled 
me  to  come  to  you  almost  on  an  equal  footing.  Per- 
haps I  have  put  that  awkwardly,  but  my  very  anxiety 
clogs  my  tongue.  Nancy  and  I  love  each  other.  She 
hates  this  Italian.  Surely  that  is  a  good  reason  why 
you,  her  father,  should  not  rule  me  out  of  court  so 
positively." 

Marten  rose  and  touched  an  electric  bell.  It  jarred 
in  some  neighboring  passage,  and  rang  the  knell  of 
Lindsay's  hopes. 

"  I  think  we  understand  each  other,"  he  said,  with 
chilling  indifference.     "  My  answer  is  no,  Mr.  Lind- 


364  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

say,  and  I  look  to  you,  as  a  man  of  honor,  not  to  see 
or  write  to  my  daughter  again." 

Now,  it  is  not  in  the  Celtic  nature  to  brook  such 
an  undeservedly  contemptuous  dismissal;  but  Power 
had  counseled  his  protege  to  keep  his  temper,  what- 
ever happened.  Still,  he  could  not  leave  Marten  in  the 
belief  that  his  stipulation  was  accepted. 

"  I  give  no  pledge  of  that  sort,"  he  said  dourly. 

"  Very  well.  It  means  simply  that  Miss  Marten  will 
be  protected  from  you." 

"  In  what  way?  " 

Marten  laughed,  a  trifle  scornfully.  "  You  are 
young,  Mr.  Lindsay,"  he  said,  "  or  you  would  see  that 
you  are  speaking  at  random.  I  hear  a  footman  coming. 
He  will  show  you  out.  But,  before  you  go,  let  me 
inform  you  that,  so  long  as  you  remain  in  this  part 
of  Devonshire,  Miss  Marten  will  have  less  liberty  of 
action  than  usual ;  and  that  will  be  vexing,  because  she 
is  interested  in  some  bazaar " 

Then  Lindsay's  frank  gaze  sought  and  held  the 
coldly  hostile  eyes  of  the  man  who  was  insulting  him. 
"  In  that  event,"  he  broke  in,  "  you  leave  me  no  option 
but  to  state  that  I  return  to  Aldershot  by  the  first 
available  train.  It  would  appear,  Mr.  Marten,  that 
I  value  your  daughter's  happiness  rather  more  than 
you  do." 

He  went  out  defeated,  but  every  inch  a  cavalier.  No 
sword  clanked  at  his  heels;  yet  he  held  his  head  high, 
though  his  soul  was  torn  with  despair.  He  saw  noth- 
ing of  Nancy.  She  had  gone  for  a  ride  into  the 
wilds  of  Exmoor,  and  had  not  the  least  notion  that 
her  lover  passed  through  the  gates  of  Valescure  an 
hour  before  she  entered  them. 


The  Settlement  865 

Power  heard  Lindsay's  broken  story  in  silence. 
Even  Marten's  callous  threat  of  confining  Nancy  to 
the  bounds  of  the  castle  left  him  outwardly  un- 
moved. 

"  I  am  not  altogether  unprepared  for  your  failure," 
he  said  gently,  when  the  disconsolate  Lindsay  had  told 
him  exactly  what  had  occurred.  "  I  compliment  you 
on  your  attitude.  As  might  be  expected,  you  said  and 
did  just  the  right  things.  I  approve  of  your  decision 
to  rejoin  your  regiment  at  once.  The  next  step  is 
to  prevent  Nancy  from  acting  precipitately.  I  think 
all  may  be  well,  even  yet.  But  you  agree  that  it  was 
necessary  you  should  see  Mr.  Marten  and  declare  your 
position?  " 

"  It  certainly  seems  to  have  settled  matters  once 
and  for  all,"  came  the  depressed  answer. 

"  By  no  means.  It  has  opened  the  campaign.  It  is 
a  declaration  of  war.  I  need  hardly  advise  you  not 
to  have  a  faint  heart  where  such  a  fair  lady  is  the 
prize.  No,  no,  Nancy  is  not  yet  the  Princess  Monte- 
castello,  nor  will  she  ever  be.  Yoti  may  not  marry 
her,  Mr.  Lindsay;  but  he  will  not.  I  shall  clear 
that  obstacle  from  your  path,  at  all  events,  and, 
it  may  be,  assist  you  materially.  My  offer  still 
holds  good — remember  that.  For  the  rest,  be  con- 
tent to  leave  the  whole  affair  to  me  during  the 
next  three  weeks.  Don't  write  to  Nancy.  It  will 
do  no  good.  I'll  tell  her  you  were  here,  why 
you  came,  and  why  you  went.  Do  you  trust 
me?" 

"  'Pon  my  soul,  I  do !  "  said  Lindsay,  and  their  hands 
met  in  a  reassuring  grip. 


366  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

A  servant  entered,  bringing  a  cablegram.     It  read: 
"  Cable  received.    Everything  in  order.  Mac." 

Then  Power  smiled  wearily;  for  the  real  struggle 
was  postponed  until  that  sealed  envelop  reached  him. 
There  followed  some  disturbing  days.  He  told  Nancy 
of  her  lover's  visit,  and  its  outcome,  and  had  to  allay 
her  fears  as  best  he  could.  Then,  on  the  day  of 
the  bazaar,  when  he  hoped  to  have  many  hours 
of  her  company,  he  discovered,  in  the  nick  of 
time,  that  Marten  and  the  whole  house-party  from 
the  castle  had  accompanied  her;  so  he  remained 
away. 

Next  morning  he  received  a  letter: 

"  Dear  Mr.  Power . — My  father,  by  some  means,  has 
heard  that  you  and  I  have  become  friends.  He  has  forbid- 
den me  ever  to  meet  you  again,  or  to  write.  I  am  disobeying 
him  this  once,  because  I  cannot  bring  myself  to  cut  adrift 
from  a  friendship  dear  to  me  without  one  word  of  explana- 
tion. All  at  once  my  bright  world  is  becoming  gray  and 
threatening.  I  am  miserable,  and  full  of  foreboding.  But 
I  remain,  and  shall  ever  be, 

"  Your  sincere  friend  and  well-wisher, 

"  Nancy  Marten." 

That  same  day  Howard  returned  from  the  Conti- 
nent. He  brought  a  full  budget.  But,  in  a  time  when 
the  world  was  even  grayer  for  Power  than  for  Nancy, 
one  person  contrived  to  give  him  a  very  real  and 
pleasurable  surprise.  On  the  twelfth  day  after  he 
had  received  MacGonigal's  cablegram  a  man  in  the 
uniform  of  a  London  commissionaire  brought  him  a 
big  linen  envelop,  profusely  sealed.     He  chanced  to 


Th^  Settlement  867 

f)e  out  when  the  messenger  came;  so  the  man  awaited 
him  in  the  hall.  He  rose  and  saluted  Power  when  a 
house-servant  indicated  him. 

"  The  gentleman  who  sent  this  package  from  Lon- 
don was  very  particular,  sir,  that  it  should  be  given 
into  your  own  hands,"  he  explained.  "  He  also  in- 
structed me  to  ask  for  a  receipt  written  by  your- 
self." 

"  Indeed.  What  is  the  gentleman's  name?  "  inquired 
Power,  scrutinizing  the  envelop  to  see  if  the  address 
would  enlighten  him. 

"  Name  of  MacGonigal,  sir," 

"What?" 

"Yes,  sir,  MacGonigal.  A  stout  gentleman,  sir, 
an  American,  and  very  dry.  He  made  me  laugh  like 
anything.  Talked  about  holdups,  and  road  agents, 
and  landslides  on  the  railway,  he  did.    Oh,  very  dry ! " 

MacGonigal  himself  cleared  up  the  mystery: 

*'  Dear  Derry  [he  wrote]. — I  wasn't  taking  any  chances; 
so  I've  brought  that  little  parcel  myself.  Time  I  saw  Lon- 
don, anyhow,  and  here  I  am.  A  man  in  our  consulate  tells 
me  these  boys  with  medals  and  crossbars  are  O.  K.,  and 
one  of  them  is  making  the  next  train.  I  didn't  come  my- 
self, because  I  don't  know  how  you  are  fixed;  but  I'll  stand 
around  till  I  hear  from  you.  London  is  some  size.  I  think 
I'll  like  it  when  I  learn  the  language. 

"  Yours, 

"  Mac." 

Power's  first  impulse,  warmly  supported  by  Dacre, 
was  to  telegraph  and  bid  the  wanderer  come  straight 
to  Devonshire.    But  he  decided  unwillingly  to  wait  un- 


868  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

til  he  had  won  or  lost  the  coming  battle.  He  tele- 
graphed, of  course,  and  told  MacGonigal  to  enjoy 
life  till  they  met,  which  would  be  in  the  course  of  three 
days,  at  the  uttermost.  Then  he  retired,  and  spent 
many  hours  in  writing,  refusing  Howard's  help,  and 
taking  a  meal  in  his  own  room.  It  was  long  after  mid- 
night when  his  task  was  ended;  but  he  appeared  at 
the  breakfast-table  in  the  best  of  health  and  spirits. 

Dacre,  aware  of  something  unusual  and  disturbing 
in  his  friend's  attitude  of  late,  was  glad  to  see  this 
pleasant  change,  and  talked  of  a  long-deferred  drive 
into  the  heart  of  Dartmoor. 

"  Tomorrow,"  agreed  Power  cheerfully.  "  I  am 
calling  at  Valescure  Castle  this  morning,  and  the  best 
hours  of  the  day  will  be  lost  before  I  am  at  liberty." 

Dacre  had  the  invaluable  faculty  of  passing  lightly 
over  the  gravest  concerns  of  life.  He  had  noticed  the 
abrupt  termination  of  Power's  friendship  with  Nancy, 
and  guessed  its  cause;  but  he  made  no  effort  now  to 
dissuade  the  other  from  a  visit  which  was  so  pregnant 
of  evil. 

When  the  meal  was  ended  Power  summoned  his 
secretary  to  a  short  conclave.  Then  he  entered  a  car- 
riage, and  was  driven  to  the  castle  by  the  roundabout 
road.  He  could  have  walked  there  in  less  time;  but 
his  reason  for  appearing  in  state  became  evident  when 
he  alighted  at  the  main  entrance,  and  a  footman  hur- 
ried to  the  door. 

"  Mr.  Marten  in  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Is  he  in  the  library?  " 

"Yes,  sir." 


The  Settlement  869 

"  Kindly  take  me  to  him." 

"  What  name,  sir?  " 

Power  gave  his  name,  and  followed  close  on  the 
man's  heels,  and  the  servant  did  not  dare  bid  such 
a  distinguished-looking  visitor  wait  in  the  hall.  Still, 
he  hastened  on  in  front,  knocked  at  a  door,  and 
said : 

"  Mr.  John  Darien  Power  to  see  you,  sir." 

"  Tell  Mr.  Power "  came  a  stern  voice ;  but  too 

late  to  be  effective,  for  Power  was  in  the  room. 

"You  can  tell  me  yourself,  Mr.  Marten,"  he  said 
quietly.  "  I'm  sorry  to  thrust  myself  in  on  you  in 
this  way;  but  it  was  necessary,  as  my  business  is  im- 
portant and  will  brook  no  delay." 

Marten  had  risen  from  a  table  littered  with  papers. 
A  cold  light  gleamed  in  his  eyes ;  but  he  had  the  sense 
and  courage  to  refrain  from  creating  a  scene  before 
the  discomfited  footman. 

"  You  may  go,"  he  said  to  the  man,  and  the  door 
closed. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Power,"  he  continued,  "  we  are  alone, 
and,  whatever  your  business,  I  must  inform  you  that 
your  presence  here  is  an  unwelcome  intrusion." 

"May  I  ask  why?" 

"  I  mean  to  make  that  quite  clear.  In  the  first 
place,  I  have  learned,  to  my  astonishment,  that  you 
have  wormed  your  way  into  my  daughter's  confidence, 
and  thereby  brought  about  the  only  approach  to  a 
quarrel  that  has  marred  our  relations.  Secondly — 
but  the  one  reason  should  suffice.  I  do  not  desire  to 
have  any  communication  with  you  or  hear  anything 
you  have  to  say,  or  explain.    Is  that  definite  enough?  " 


370  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

Power  turned  suddenly,  locked  the  door,  and  put  the 
key  in  his  pocket. 

"How  dare  you?"  Marten  almost  shouted. 

"I  had  to  answer,  and  I  chose  the  most  effective 
method,"  was  the  calm  reply.  "  Your  long  experi- 
ence of  life  should  have  taught  you  that  there  are  times 
and  seasons  when  closing  the  ears  is  ineffectual.  The 
wise  man  listens,  even  to  his  worst  enemy.  Then  he 
weighs.  Ultimately,  he  decides.  That  is  what  you  are 
going  to  do  now.  Won't  you  be  seated?  And  may 
I  sit  down?  Promise  me  we  shall  not  be  interrupted 
till  I  have  finished,  and  I'll  unlock  the  door." 

Marten  had  not  spoken  to  Power,  nor,  to  his  knowl- 
edge, seen  him,  for  twenty-three  years.  The  young 
and  enthusiastic  engineer  he  had  sent  to  the  Sacra- 
mento placer  mine  had  developed  into  a  man  whose 
appearance  and  words  would  sway  any  gathering,  no 
matter  how  eminent  or  noteworthy  its  component 
members.  For  some  reason,  utterly  hidden  from  the 
financier's  ken, — for  he  was  not  one  likely  to  recog- 
nize the  magnetic  aura  which  seemed  to  emanate  from 
Power  in  his  contact  with  men  generally, — he  was  mo- 
mentarily cowed.  He  sank  back  into  the  chair  he  had 
just  quitted,  but  said,  truculently  enough: 

"  It  would  certainly  be  less  melodramatic  if  my  serv- 
ants could  enter  the  room  should  I  be  summoned  in 
haste." 

Power  unlocked  the  door,  and  drew  up  a  chair  fac- 
ing his  unwilling  host. 

"  I  am  here,"  he  began,  "  to  urge  on  you  the  vital 
necessity  of  dismissing  the  Principe  del  Montecastello 
from  your  house,  and  of  permitting  the  announcement 


The  Settlement  871 

of  Nancy's  forthcoming  marriage  with  the  Honorable 
Philip  Lindsay,  son  of  the  Earl  of  Colonsay " 

"  I  guessed  as  much,"  broke  in  Marten  wrathfully, 
"  Colonsay  is  as  poor  as  a  church  mouse.  It  was  your 
money  which  that  young  prig  paraded  before  my  as- 
tonished eyes." 

"  I  thought  it  advisable  to  state  the  motive  of  my 
visit  frankly,"  said  Power.  "  I  take  it  you  are  not 
inclined  to  discuss  the  matter  in  an  amicable  way; 
though  I  am  at  a  loss  to  understand  why — before  I 
have  reached  any  of  the  points  I  want  you  to  con- 
sider— you  are  so  markedly  hostile  both  to  me  and 
to  my  purpose." 

"Then  I'll  tell  you,"  and  Marten  took  a  letter 
from  a  portfolio  on  the  table.  "  It  appears  that  my 
late  father-in-law,  Francis  Willard,  had  taken  your 
measure  more  accurately  than  I.  I  remember  treat- 
ing you  as  a  trustworthy  subordinate;  but  your  con- 
duct during  my  temporary  absence  from  America  at 
a  certain  period  led  him  to  regard  you  as  unprinci- 
pled and  knavish.  He  has  been  dead  several  years; 
but  he  still  lives  to  watch  you.  He  left  funds  with 
a  firm  of  lawyers  in  New  York  to  carry  out  his  in- 
structions, which  were  that,  if  ever  you  were  found 
hanging  about  any  place  where  I  or  any  member  of 
my  family  was  residing,  I  should  be  warned  against 
you,  because,  owing  to  his  action,  and  that  alone,  my 
dear  wife  was  saved  from  something  worse  than  a  mere 
indiscretion  in  which  you  were  the  prime  factor.  A 
dead  hand  can  reach  far  sometimes.  On  this  occasion 
it  has  stretched  across  the  Atlantic.  The  communi- 
cation  I   received  a   few  days   ago  is   quite   explicit. 


872  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

These  lawyers  have,  at  times,  been  much  troubled  to 
discover  jour  whereabouts ;  but,  on  this  occasion,  their 
English  agents  have  kept  their  eyes  open." 

"  *  Can  vengeance  be  pursued  farther  than  death?  '  " 
murmured  Power,  shocked  by  this  revelation  of  Wil- 
lard's  undying  hatred. 

The  other  did  not  recognize  the  quotation. 

"  Yes,  and  what  is  more,"  he  snarled,  "  they  go 
on  to  say  that  Willard  has  intrusted  a  document  to 
their  care  which  will  scare  you  effectually  if  this  pres- 
ent remonstrance  is  unavailing.  In  that  event,  they 
will  act  on  their  own  initiative,  and  not  through  me. 
I  wonder  what  the  precious  scandal  is  ?  " 

"  I  am  here  to  make  it  known,  known  beyond  reach 
of  doubt  or  dispute." 

Marten  moved  uneasily.  He  tossed  the  letter  back 
into  the  portfolio,  and  glared  at  Power  in  silence  for 
a  few  seconds. 

"  I  neither  care  to  hear  your  secrets  nor  mean  to 
attach  any  significance  to  them  when  heard,"  he  said, 
at  last.  "  My  only  anxiety  is  to  prevent  you  from 
sapping  my  daughter's  affections  from  me.  Damn  you, 
you  have  caused  the  one  cloud  that  has  come  between 
us ! " 

"  I,  too,  have  Nancy's  welfare  at  heart." 

"  I  don't  see  what  good  purpose  you  serve  by  al- 
luding to  my  daughter  in  that  impertinently  familiar 
way," 

"  Now  we  are  close  to  the  heart  of  the  mystery. 
Nancy  is  not  your  daughter !     She  is  my  daughter !  " 

Marten  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  and  glowered  at 
the  self-possessed  man  who  had  uttered  these  extraor- 


The  Settlement  873 

dmary  words  so  calmly.  His  voice  was  tinged  with 
sadness,  it  is  true,  but  otherwise  wholly  devoid  of 
emotion. 

"  Do  you  realize  what  you  are  saying? ''  demanded 
the  older  man,  and  the  words  came  thickly,  as  though 
he  spoke  with  difficulty. 

«  Yes." 

"  But  such  raving  is  not  argument.  I  thought  you 
remarked  that  you  were  here  to  convince  me  of  the 
error  of  my  ways." 

Power  produced  an  envelop,  and  extracted  some 
papers.  "  Read !  "  he  said,  leaning  forward  and  thrust- 
ing the  folded  sheets  before  Marten.  "  The  letters 
quoted  there  are  not  in  original,  of  course.  I  have  left 
those  in  safe-keeping,  and  they  will  be  burnt  on  the  day  I 
know  for  certain  that  my  daughter  is  married  to  the 
man  she  loves.  Read!  Note  the  dates!  I  need  not 
say  another  word.  I  have  supplied  such  brief  ex- 
planatory passages  as  are  required.  I  was  not  aware 
that  Mowlem  &  Son  had  tendered  other  evidence. 
Though  slight,  it  is  helpful." 

And  Marten  read,  and  his  face,  dark  and  lowering 
as  he  began,  soon  faded  to  the  tint  of  old  ivory.  For 
his  hawk's  eyes  were  perusing  the  story  of  his  own 
and  Willard's  perfidy,  and  of  his  wife's  revolt,  and 
love,  and  final  surrender.  It  was  soon  told.  Nancy's 
pitiful  scrawl,  left  in  the  hut  by  the  lake,  Willard's 
letter  to  Mrs.  Power,  the  two  cablegrams,  and  Nancy's 
two  letters  from  London — these,  with  Power's  notes, 
giving  chapter  and  verse  for  his  arrival  at  Newport, 
his  flight  with  Nancy  into  the  Adirondacks,  and  her 
departure  with   Willard,  made   up   a  document  hard 


374  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

to  disbelieve,  almost  impossible  to  gainsay.  Some  dry 
and  faded  strands  of  white  heather  had  fallen  from 
among  the  papers  to  the  table,  and  Marten  gave  no 
heed  to  them  at  first.  Now  he  knew  he  was  gazing  at 
the  remnants  of  Nancy's  bridal  bouquet. 

The  husband  whom  she  loathed  and  had  deserted, 
who  was  so  detestable  in  her  sight  that  she  died  rather 
than  remain  his  wife,  did  not  attempt  to  deny  the  truth 
of  that  overwhelming  indictment.  Indeed,  its  opening 
passages,  laying  bare  his  own  scheming,  must  have  con- 
vinced him  of  the  accuracy  of  the  remainder.  With 
the  painstaking  care  of  one  to  whom  the  written  word 
was  all-important,  he  read  and  reread  each  letter,  par- 
ticularly Nancy's  pathetic  farewell.  Then,  darting  one 
wolfish  glance  at  Power,  he  thrust  his  right  hand  sud- 
denly toward  a  drawer.  Power  was  prepared  for  some 
such  movement,  and  leaped  with  a  lightning  spring  born 
of  many  a  critical  adventure  in  wild  lands,  when  a 
fraction  of  a  second  of  delay  meant  all  the  difference 
between  life  and  death.  Marten  was  not  a  weakling; 
but  he  was  no  match  for  the  younger  man's  well- 
trained  muscles.  After  a  brief  struggle  the  automatic 
pistol  he  had  taken  from  its  hiding-place  was  wrested 
from  his  grasp. 

"  You  may  shoot,  if  you  like,  when  I  have  finished 
with  you,  but  not  before,"  said  Power,  when  his  breath- 
less adversary  seemed  to  be  in  a  fit  condition  to  fol- 
low what  he  was  saying.  "  I  am  prepared  to  die,  and 
by  your  hand  if  you  think  fit  to  be  my  executioner ;  but 
first  you  must  know  the  penalty.  If  I  do  not  return 
to  my  friend's  house  before  a  fixed  hour,  an  exact  copy 
of  all  that  you  have  read  will  be  sent  to  the  father 


The  Settlement  8T5 

and  uncle  of  that  detestable  blackguard  you  have  chosen 
to  marry  my  daughter.  It  seems  that  Italians  are 
blessed  with  fine-drawn  scruples  in  such  matters,  and 
the  revelation  of  a  blot  in  Nancy's  parentage  will  be 
fatal  to  your  precious  project.  Copies  will  also  be 
given  to  Nancy  herself,  and  to  Philip  Lindsay.  If 
I  know  anything  of  men,  I  fancy  that  he,  at  any  rate, 
will  not  flout  her  because  of  her  mother's  sin.  In  the 
event  of  my  death,  she  becomes  my  heiress ;  so  she  will 
be  quite  independent  of  your  bounty,  and,  after  the 
first  shock  and  horror  of  comprehension  has  passed, 
I  think  she  has  enough  of  her  mother's  spirit,  and  of 
ray  fairly  strong  will,  to  defy  any  legal  rights  you  may 
try  to  enforce  as  her  reputed  father.  I  am  talking 
with  brutal  plainness,  Marten,  because  you've  got  to 
understand  that  you  are  beaten  to  your  knees.  Now 
I'll  repeat  my  terms.  Dismiss  an  unspeakable  cad  from 
your  house — not  forcibly,  of  course,  but  with  sufficient 
conviction  that  he  cannot  refuse  to  go — agree  to 
Nancy's  marriage  with  the  man  of  her  choice — and  she 
should  wait  another  year,  at  least,  whether  or  not  Lind- 
say be  the  man — and  I  burn  everything,  copies  and 
originals,  on  her  wedding  day.  Refuse,  and  you  know 
the  sure  outcome.  There  is  your  pistol.  It  should  do 
its  work  well  at  this  short  range.  Shoot,  if  you  must ! 
I  am  ready !  " 


CHAPTER  XX 
THE  PASSING  OF  THE  STORM 

Marten's  hand  closed  round  the  butt  of  the  pistol, 
and,  during  a  few  seconds,  Power  thought  that  he  was 
a  doomed  man.  Even  in  England,  a  land  where  deeds 
of  violence  are  not  condoned  bj  lawless  unwritten  law, 
he  knew  he  was  in  deadly  peril.  If  Marten  shot  him, 
there  was  reasonable  probability  that  punishment 
might  not  follow  the  crime.  His  own  actions  would 
bear  out  the  contention  that  Marten  had  killed  him 
in  self-defense.  He  had  palpably  forced  his  way  in; 
the  warning  letter  from  the  New  York  lawyers  would 
count  against  him;  legal  ingenuity  could  twist  in  Mar- 
ten's favor  the  very  means  he  was  using  to  safeguard 
Nancy's  child.  But  he  did  not  fear  death.  Rather 
did  he  look  on  it  as  the  supreme  atonement.  "  Greater 
love  hath  no  man  than  this,  that  he  lay  down  his  life  for 
his  friend,"  and,  in  giving  his  life  for  an  innocent  girl, 
he  was  surely  obeying  her  mother's  last  request. 

But  Marten,  still  clutching  the  pistol — a  modern 
weapon  of  fearsome  effect  when  fired  in  conditions 
which  made  faulty  aim  impossible — seemed  to  be  mar- 
shaling his  disrupted  thoughts.  His  eyes  were  veiled, 
his  body  was  bent  as  though  old  age  had  suddenly  be- 
set him;  but  the  ivory-white  of  cheeks  and  forehead 
was  yielding  slowly  to  the  quickening  of  the  arteries 
caused  by  the  recent  struggle. 

876 


The  Passing  of  the  Storm  377 

At  last  he  looked  at  Power,  and  may  have  been 
surprised  by  the  discovery  that  his  adversary,  though 
standing  within  a  yard  of  him,  obviously  disregarded 
his  presence,  and  was,  in  fact,  staring  through 
a  window  at  the  far  horizon  of  the  blue  At- 
lantic. 

For  the  first  time  he  was  aware  of  an  expression 
in  Power's  face  that  was  baffling,  almost  unnerving. 
Suffering,  pity,  sympathy,  well-doing — these  essentials 
had  never  found  lodgment  in  his  own  nature,  and  their 
legible  imprint  on  another's  features  was  foreign  to 
his  eyes.  He  was  wholly  self-centered,  self-contained. 
To  his  material  mind  men  and  women  were  mere  ele- 
ments in  the  alchemy  of  gold-making;  yet  here  stood 
one  who  had  never  sought  the  gross  treasures  which 
earth  seemed  to  delight  in  showering  on  him.  And 
he  could  win  what  Marten  had  never  won — love.  That 
thought  rankled.  Already  Nancy  was  yielding  to  his 
influence.    Unless 

He  replaced  the  pistol  in  the  drawer  where  it  was 
kept,  ever  within  reach — he  had  ruined  opponents  by 
the  score,  and  some  were  vengeful.  The  movement 
awoke  Power  from  a  species  of  trance,  and  their  eyes 
met. 

"  You  win,"  said  Marten  laconically. 

Power  sat  down  again.  The  simplicity  of  his  self- 
effacement  almost  bewildered  the  other,  on  whom  the 
knowledge  was  forced  that,  had  he  raised  and  pointed 
the  death-dealing  weapon,  his  enemy  would  have  disre- 
garded him. 

*'  I  want  to  ask  you  a  few  questions,"  he  continued 
bruskly.     "  I  suppose  you  and  I  can  afford  now  to 


378  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

tell  each  other  the  naked  truth.  Why  are  you  raising 
all  this  commotion  after  twenty  years  ?  " 

"  I  am  only  fulfilling  the  mandate  given  in — in  your 
wife's  last  letter." 

^'  My  wife.    You  admit,  then,  that  she  was  my  wife?  " 

Power  did  not  answer,  and  Marten  tingled  with  the 
quick  suspicion  that  he  was  opening  up  the  very  line 
of  inquiry  in  which  he  was  most  vulnerable. 

"  Anyhow,  let  us  endeavor  to  forget  what  happened 
twenty  years  ago,"  he  went  on,  affecting  a  generosity 
of  sentiment  he  was  far  from  feeling.  "  What  I  wish 
to  understand  is  this — how  do  you  reconcile  your  re- 
gret, or  repentance,  or  whatever  you  choose  to  call 
it,  for  bygone  deeds,  with  your  attempt  now  to  come 
between  me  and  my  daughter.  Yes,  damn  you,  what- 
ever you  may  say  or  do,  you  cannot  rob  me  of  the 
nineteen  years  of  affection  which  at  least  one  person 
in  the  world  has  given  me !  " 

Power  passed  unheeded  that  sudden  flame  of  pas- 
sionate resentment. 

"  It  is  natural,  in  a  sense,  that  you  should  misread 
the  actual  course  of  events,"  he  said.  "  You  may  not 
be  aware  that  I  have  been  a  constant  visitor  to  this 
part  of  Devonshire  during  many  years,  and  that,  in 
hiring  Valescure,  you  were  really  seeking  me  instead 
of  me,  as  you  imagine,  seeking  you.  I  met  Nancy  by 
accident.  We  became  friends.  It  was  the  impulse  of 
a  girl  deprived  of  the  one  adviser  in  whom  she  should 
have  complete  trust  that  led  her  to  confide  in  me," 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that?  " 

"  You,  her  loved  and  honored  father,  were  using  your 
authority  to  force  her  into  a  hated  marriage." 


The  Passing  of  the  Storm  379 

"  I  didn't  treat  matters  so  seriously.  I  never  heard 
of  this  young  Lindsay  as  a  candidate  before  last 
week." 

"  Had  you  taken  a  tenth  part  of  the  trouble  it  has 
cost  me,  you  would  have  ascertained  that  the  Principe 
del  Montecastello  was  about  as  suitable  a  mate  for 
Nancy  as  a  carrion  crow  for  a  linnet." 

"  He  was  a  bit  wild  in  his  youth,  but  would  become 
a  model  husband.  I  know  that  type  of  man  well.  At 
fifty  he  would  be  taking  the  chair  at  rescue  meetings." 

Again  Power  remained  silent,  and  Marten  was 
obliged  to  reopen  the  discussion. 

"  I'll  get  rid  of  Montecastello,"  he  said,  and  his 
voice  had  the  metallic  rasp  of  a  file  in  it.  "  I'll  under- 
take, too,  that  my  daughter  shall  be  free  to  marry 
Philip  Lindsay,  or  any  other  man  of  her  choice.  I 
suppose  it  will  be  Lindsay.  I'll  invite  him  here,  and 
make  up  for  my  rather  emphatic  dismissal  the  other 
day.  But  if  you  impose  terms,  so  do  I.  To  avoid  a 
scandal,  to  keep  my  daughter's  love  during  the  remain- 
ing years  of  my  life,  I  yield  to  you  on  the  major  point. 
On  my  side,  I  stipulate  that  not  one  penny  of  your 
money  goes  to  either  Lindsay  or  Nancy.  They  must 
owe  everything  to  me,  not  to  you.  Further,  you  must 
undertake  to  go  out  of  my  daughter's  life  completely. 
You  have  contrived  to  do  that  in  the  past;  you  must 
manage  it  in  the  future  as  well." 

"  You  mean  that  I  am  never  voluntarily  to  see  or 
speak  to  her  again?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  I  promise  that." 

Power  spoke  in  a  low  tone,  but  a  note  of  unutterable 


380  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

sadness  crept  into  the  words.  Even  his  bitter  and 
resentful  hearer  caught  some  hint  of  anguish,  of  final 
abandonment,  of  a  dream  that  was  dispelled. 

"  Now,  about  these  papers,"  he  said,  striving  to  as- 
sume a  business-like  air.  "  I  shall  write  to  Mowlem 
&  Son  telling  them  that  the  Willard  trust  has  attained 
its  object.  Sometime  I  shall  endeavor  personally  to 
get  them  to  hand  over  any  document  in  their  possession. 
They  are  only  agents.  They  can  be  bought.  As  to 
these,"  and  he  tapped  the  sheets  in  Power's  hand- 
writing, "  I  shall  keep  them  until  you  have  carried 
out  your  share  of  the  deal." 

"  Better  not.  You  may  die  suddenly.  Then  they 
would  be  found." 

"  Die,  may  I?    And  what  about  you?  " 

"  I  shall  not  die  until  the  future  of  Nancy's  child 
is  assured.  In  any  event,  I  have  taken  steps  to  safe- 
guard her  secret." 

Marten  hesitated.  Ultimately  he  applied  a  lighted 
match  to  the  papers,  threw  them  into  a  grate,  and 
watched  them  burn  and  curl  up  in  black  spirals.  When 
they  were  still  ablaze  he  gathered  the  bits  of  crackling 
heather,  and  burnt  them,  too. 

"  That,  then,  is  the  end,"  he  said. 

"  The  beginning  of  the  end,"  said  Power,  turning 
to  leave  the  room.  It  was  a  very  large  apartment, 
and  there  were  windows  at  each  end.  Through  those 
on  the  landward  side  he  saw  Nancy  riding  toward  the 
gates  in  company  with  a  young  married  couple  who 
had  joined  the  house  party  recently. 

"  With  your  permission,  I  will  wait  a  few  minutes," 
he  said.     "Your  daughter  is  just  crossing  the  park; 


The  Passing  of  the  Storm  381 

but  she  will  soon  be  out  of  sight.  I'll  dismiss  my  car- 
riage, and  walk  home  bj  the  cliff  path." 

**  Your  "  daughter.  So  he  really  meant  to  keep  his 
word  in  letter  and  spirit!  Marten  thought  him  a 
strange  man,  a  visionary.  He  had  never  met  such  an- 
other— undoubtedly,  he  was  half  mad! 

In  a  little  while  Power  walked  out.  Then  Marten 
noticed,  for  the  first  time,  that  he  moved  with  a  slight 
limp;  the  result  of  some  accident,  no  doubt.  Curse 
him,  why  wasn't  he  killed?  Then  Nancy  Marten  would 
have  become  a  princess,  with  no  small  likelihood  of 
occupying  a  throne.  For  that  was  Marten's  carefully 
planned  scheme.  A  certain  principality  was  prac- 
tically in  the  market.  It  could  be  had  for  money. 
Money  would  do  anything — almost  anything.  Today 
money  had  failed ! 

Power  planned  to  take  MacGonigal  by  surprise. 
He  wrote  with  purposed  vagueness  as  to  his  arrival 
in  London,  meaning  to  drop  in  on  his  stout  friend 
unexpectedly.  He  arrived  about  six  o'clock  in  the  even- 
ing at  the  big  hotel  where  Mac  was  installed,  and 
was  informed  that  "  Mr.  MacGonigal  "  was  out,  but 
might  return  at  any  moment.  He  secured  a  suite  of 
rooms,  and  was  crossing  the  entrance  hall,  with  no 
other  intent  than  to  sit  there  and  await  Mac's  ap- 
pearance, when  he  almost  cannoned  against  a  woman — • 
a  woman  with  lustrous,  penetrating  brown  eyes.  What 
was  worse,  he  stood  stock  still,  and  stared  at  her  in  a 
way  that  might  well  evoke  her  indignation. 

But,  if  she  was  annoyed,  she  masked  her  feelings 
under  an  amused  smile. 


382  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

"  You  don't  recall  me,  of  course,  Mr.  Power,"  she 
said ;  "  but  I  remember  you  quite  well — even  after 
twenty  years !  " 

"Meg!  "he  cried. 

She  reddened  somewhat.  Though  wearing  a  hat  and 
an  out-of-doors  costume,  she  was  uneveiled,  and  there 
was  no  trace  of  scar  or  disfigurement  on  her  face. 

"  Marguerite  Sinclair,  at  any  rate,"  she  answered. 

"  Sent  here  by  the  gods !  "  he  muttered. 

"  Your  gods  are  false  gods,  Mr.  Power.  I,  for  one, 
don't  recognize  them  as  guides." 

"  Marguerite  Sinclair !  "  he  went  on.  "  So  you  are 
unmarried?  " 

"  And  you?  "  she  retorted. 

"I?    I  am  free,  at  last." 

"Free?" 

"  Yes.  Come  with  me.  We  can  find  a  seat  some- 
where. If  you  have  any  engagement,  you  must  break 
it." 

She  dropped  her  veil  hurriedly.  If  there  are  tears 
in  a  woman's  eyes,  she  does  not  care  to  have  the  fact 
noticed  while  she  is  crossing  the  crowded  foyer  of  a 
hotel.  Manlike,  Power  attributed  her  action  to  the 
wrong  cause. 

"  Why  hide  your  face  ?  "  he  said,  striving  hard  to 
control  an  unaccountable  tremolo  in  his  voice.  "  What 
have  you  been  doing?    Praying  at  Lourdes?  " 

She  did  not  pretend  to  misunderstand :  "  A  French 
doctor  worked  this  particular  miracle.  The  chief  in- 
gredients were  some  months  of  suffering  and  the  skin  of 
eggs.  It  was  not  vanity  on  my  part.  I  was  tired  of  the 
world's  pity." 


The  Passing  of  the  Storm  383 

"  Then,  thank  Heaven,  I  loved  you  before  your  sci- 
entist doubled  your  good  looks !  " 

They  had  found  two  chairs  in  a  palm-shaded  cor- 
ner, and  Marguerite  raised  her  veil  again.  Then  he 
saw  why  she  had  lowered  it. 

"Derry,"  she  said,  and  her  lips  quivered,  "why 
were  you  so  cruel?  " 

"I'll  tell  you.     May  I?" 

"  Not  now.     I  couldn't  bear  it." 

"  Can  you  bear  being  told  that  I  have  never  ceased 
to  love  you — that  you  have  dwelt  constantly  in  my 
thoughts  during  all  these  slow  years  ?  " 

She  bent  her  head.  For  a  long  time  neither  spoke. 
Plucking  at  a  glove,  she  revealed  a  ring  on  her  left 
hand — his  ring!  Then  Power  began  his  confession. 
He  did  not  tell  her  everything — that  was  impossible. 
Nor  was  it  necessary.  In  the  first  moment  of  their 
meeting  he  had  said  what  she  had  been  waiting  thirteen 
long  years  to  hear. 

So,  as  the  outcome,  it  was  MacGonigal  who  sur- 
prised Power.  A  clerk  at  the  key  office  gave  him  the 
name  of  the  gentleman  who  had  been  inquiring  for 
him,  and,  although  taken  aback  by  finding  Power  deep 
in  talk  with  a  lady,  Mac  "  butted  in  "  joyously. 

The  two  stood  up,  and  Power  took  his  friend's  hand. 

"  Mac,"  he  said,  "  this  is  Miss  Marguerite  Sinclair. 
You'll  soon  be  well  acquainted  with  her.  She  becomes 
Marguerite  Power  at  the  earliest  possible  date." 

Now,  MacGonigal  had  formed  his  own  conclusions, 
owing  to  the  urgency  of  the  message  for  that  sealed 
packet.  Anxiety,  and  not  a  desire  to  see  life,  had 
drawn  him  from  his   shell  in  Bison.     Power's   words 


384  The  Terms  of  Surrender 

had  answered  many  unspoken  questions,  solved  all 
manner  of  doubts.  His  face  shone,  his  big  eyes  bulged 
alarmingly.  He  mopped  a  shining  forehead  with,  alas ! 
a  red  handkerchief, 

"  Wall,  ef  I  ain't  dog-goned !  "  he  vowed.  "  But  I'm 
glad,  mighty  glad.  You've  worried  me,  Derry,  an' 
that's  a  fact."  He  turned  to  Marguerite,  little  guess- 
ing how  well  she  knew  him.  "  Bring  him  to  the  ranch, 
Ma'am,  an'  keep  him  thar ! "  he  said.  "  It'll  look  like 
home  when  you  come  along.  An'  that's  what  he  wants 
— a  home.  I  don't  know  whar  he  met  you,  nor  when, 
but  I  kin  tell  you  this — he's  been  like  a  lost  dog  fer 
thirteen  years,  an'  it's  time  he  was  fixed  with  a  collar 
an'  chain.  Anyhow,  when  he's  had  a  good  look  at  you, 
he'll  not  need  the  chain." 

"  Mac,"  said  the  woman  with  the  shining  eyes, 
"  you're  a  dear !  " 

And  from  that  moment  the  firm  of  Power  and  Mac- 
Gonigal  acquired  another  partner. 


THE   END 


JLU    ^ruv-/iC-v-; 


y^ 


M2S888 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  UBRARY 


